


Through The Looking Glass: The Duke Of Vroomland

by rekishi



Series: Young, Hot and Royal [3]
Category: Royalty RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Companion Piece, Disapproving Parents, Inspired by Real Events, Love Overcomes All, M/M, Mirror fic, Politics, Romance, Scandal, Secret Relationship, Star-crossed, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-10
Updated: 2010-05-10
Packaged: 2017-10-09 09:41:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 29,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rekishi/pseuds/rekishi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Carl Philip Bernadotte is not a man who values publicity, which doesn't make life as a Swedish prince any easier. His quiet days come to an end when, at a royal wedding, he crosses paths with William Mountbatton-Windsor, after which love - and lust - make him chose a path highly different from what he ever imagined.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Through The Looking Glass: The Duke Of Vroomland

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Anglo-Swedish Relations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/84131) by [carmenta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta). 



> Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction and does not claim to report actual events; events that have taken place were used because they were convenient and have been reinterpreted others might have been omitted. Events that are to take place have been entirely thought up by the author, any corresponding happening are entirely coincidental. The characters featured in this fictional work are real people and the author does not claim any kind of insight into their lives or characters, only the public personas were taken into account (possibly with some reinterpretation). Any conclusions the author has drawn from the public image are entirely part of the author's imagination. No harm or insult to the real person was intended with the work at hand.

As royal weddings went, this one was almost bearable. Almost, because this was the wedding of his older sister and while everyone's eye rested on her, he still had to act the dutiful younger brother. At least this time neither of his sisters looked like sweetmeats and no one had proposed he wear a pale blue suit instead of his uniform. A memorable Danish wedding that would have been, back in 2004, him and his sisters all looking like sugar-coated pieces of chocolate.

His Royal Highness Prince Carl Philip Edmund Bertil Bernadotte took a sip of wine as he continued to wander the English gardens behind Drottningholm Palace in search of nothing in particular. He had not brought anyone to the wedding, because while Emma certainly would have agreed to accompany him and she was friends with Vicky, it would not have been right. Speculation in the tabloids would have followed and he was quite sick of seeing his family in the headlines, especially with all the recent activity leading up to the wedding.

He spotted Prince William in full gala uniform, representing the British royal family and without entourage (save for the ever present security officer) all by himself, several paces ahead and smiling like a loon. William attending the wedding had been a last-minute change of schedule, since he had originally declined the formal invitation due to attending the football world cup with his brother, but when Prince Charles had torn his right crucial ligament, his eldest son had taken over his duties. Maybe for the better, as William had received a verbal beating by the media for cancelling.

It was good to see him, there had not been much opportunity for them to meet up anywhere over the last few years. Not least because Carl Philip tried to avoid media attention as much as possible and Prince William of Great Britain had proven himself to be a recipe for showing up on the front page. They exchanged a few words about zombies and Carl Philip expressed his concern at the amount of wine William had consumed in the last hour or so. But actually it seemed that the man was just as bored as he was himself so they continued chatting about the line of succession to the British crown.

They continued their amiable discussion until Madde came up and pulled at his arm the same way she had done when she was just a child, whispering to him he had to follow her immediately. His bow tie was being uncrooked in a matter of seconds, the lecture about appearance accompanying it took quite a bit longer than that. Again. How was it they all seemed to pay such close attention to his attire?

He needed more wine.

Rain started to patter down shortly after and while everyone was hurrying inside he saw William empty his glass of wine all over his white shirt and winced. Not that the prince probably couldn't afford a new shirt but that shirt wasn't salvageable, no matter how much he wiped at it with that flimsy napkin. Carl Philip stepped up to him and put a hand to his back to guide him away. "Come on, I'll lend you a shirt. That won't come out, and you'll just get damper."

"Thanks," William answered and tossed away the napkin at the next opportunity. "This is annoying."

"It happens though. We're not quite the same size, but at least you won't go home looking like you were shot in the chest." Someone was following them; probably the security officer assigned to the British prince, but really what did he expect to be happening, a tripwire with a spring gun attached to it within the Swedish palace?

They passed two Säkerhetspolisen officers who guarded the family wing of the palace and from here on out they would be alone.

"Is your sister okay?" William asked and it sounded like more than just polite conversation.

Carl Philip nodded. "She's fine. My sisters tend to be more concerned about my appearance than I am myself." Their shoulders brushed as he steered the other man towards his apartment. Warmth was radiating from William and just like that their shoulders brushed again.

"That's women for you." William shrugged. "Harry usually suffers from the same affliction."

Their eyes met on a sideways glance. "Well, you are the perfect prince, I bet no one straightens your bow tie."

The other man barked a laugh. "In appearance only, though. But you're right. No women to my throat."

Carl threw him a look but decided to keep his own counsel and not call the man out on what he might have just revealed.

They arrived at the apartment, then entered Carl's bedroom where he found out that it was disturbingly easy to seduce the heir apparent to the Prince of Wales. Wait until he has stripped off his ruined shirt while being preoccupied with retrieving a new one, hand him a towel so he can wipe himself down - your fingers ever so lightly brushing his - and then lock your gaze with his, invade his personal space and attack his mouth with yours while threading your fingers into his thinning hair, pulling him down to you. Then force him two, three steps backwards and shove him onto your bed where he lands with a gasp. If you then start going down on him, you have basically won already. It was almost too easy.

Maybe he should write a book, _How to seduce a prince_.

What truly was slightly weird was how well William responded right from the start. As far as Carl knew the man was strictly heterosexual and there had never even been the faintest rumour that this might be any different. But then, the same was true for himself and yet here he was, licking a long line up the man's cock from root to crown. It pulled a heartfelt groan out of William and made Carl grin.

He knelt in front of his bed, pausing long enough to make William raise his head and look to the foot of the bed. "If you're telling me you'll be leaving me here hot and with nowhere to go I'm going to beat you senseless, brother of the bride or no."

"The brother of the bride just had your cock in his mouth and doesn't fancy beatings. Am I right if I assume you're clean?" That cock was slightly shivering with every breath they took and if he was honest he was getting quite uncomfortably warm in his uniform. He reached out a a hand and retraced the same line his tongue had followed with the tip of one finger. It made William buck. Interesting.

"Believe me, if I had so much as a persistent cold you would have read about it. Now would you _please_ get back to what you were do- Woah!" That was last outcry was a response to the little nip to the hipbone Carl had placed before getting up and starting to discard his clothes.

"Mh now, begging sounds good, coming from you," he said with a smirk and made his way up the bed, dragging his fingernails lightly over William's exposed skin. "Now let's see if I can get you to do it some more."

Maybe getting William to sleep with him wasn't entirely fair, because while - if they were caught - it could get both of them in trouble, he would be the one to suffer more recriminations. There was no way the number two in line to the British throne could just vanish for a while if the media uncovered a scandal, RAF responsibilities or no, while Carl Philip could simply reduce his royal workload further. An earful from his sisters notwithstanding.

But William was tempting. They had gotten along well until several years ago, but had not met in a while and there was a disturbing discontinuity between the William Carl Philip had known - even after the tragic death of his mother - and the William presented to everyone these days. So for one, Carl wanted to know if the other man was still the same as boy who had claimed to become as legendary as King Arthur one day. Not to mention the one who had shown the three young Bernadotte children how to steal pastries from various British palace kitchens. On the other hand, William presented an opportunity. He was there, he was obviously willing enough. Most important of all, he would not breathe a word of what had transpired between them. This time, at least - and bless the British for that much stuffiness - Carl Philip could be very sure not to receive a mortifying call from an open-minded girlfriend.

He would need to call Sofia and end their arrangement about shared appearances in public - publicity for her and no annoying journalists asking about his next girlfriend for him. Press attention that brought him into every newspaper on the globe was the last thing he needed now.

When Carl later led William through disused and dusty servant passages he himself had used to navigate, exit and enter the Palace unseen in the past, they got to talking again. "This turned out to be a much more fun event than I expected."

William grinned. "I take it you don't normally haul off strangers to your bedroom and have your way with them?"

"You're not a stranger," Carl frowned, letting his hand drag accidentally against the other man's thigh. "I remember those state visits fondly."

"You, your sisters, Harry and me terrorising the staff. I'm surprised our parents never told us off for that." There was a small smile on William's face, memory momentarily superimposed over the present.

"We were sneaky like that," Carl agreed. "The one good thing about festivities with extended family and friends is the fact that no one calls me by style or title," he mused, steering William around corners with a hand lightly placed on the small of his back.

"Do they do that when you go out?"

Carl grimaced. "They make the people at school call me 'prince' and believe me, I'm not exactly happy with it. I managed to get rid of it at when I was studying design, it looks like I have to start over again now."

"That blows," William murmured compassionately. "Maybe I was lucky I got into Eton when I didn't have as much media presence...and St. Andrews is remote enough I could _make_ people not care."

"What media presence?" They rounded a last corner and could already hear the murmurs of the party. They just needed to wait for William's security officer to catch up and then the British prince would probably be on his way. "And agriculture is not the most popular of studies either. At least I managed to get it all dropped at the Cup."

He opened a panel in one of the walls and they both stepped into the hall, hidden by a pillar as to not draw attention. Sometimes it was quite advantageous to live in royal lodgings.

"I still can't believe they allow you to drive a race car," William said and shook his head, but before Carl could answer he caught sight of two glowering security officers. He stepped away and his arm was caught, this time by his older sister who smiled widely and dragged him away so he would give her the second to last dance of the evening, the last belonging to her husband.

~*~

The news hit the tabloids late in the day, but if Carl's own experience and the blatant lack of scandal were any indication, several weeks after the fact. Still, since they had talked about it, maybe he should ask how William was doing. And maybe that was a nice way to get into contact, because there were not a lot of opportunities for it otherwise.

William Mountbatton-Windsor was, as Carl Philip had found out, not only easy to look at but also easy to talk to. There was no way there could be more to it, but maybe they could be friends with occasional benefits. William was, after all, destined to sit the throne, so even if he fancied men _and_ women, he would need to be discreet about the former. And Carl knew a lot about being discreet.

The only trouble was, how to establish contact, as he could hardly call Clarence House and ask for the mobile number of their young heir. That was the first time the officer of the Säkerhetspolisen newly assigned to him seemed to be useful. He didn't quite know why the Säpo had suddenly decided he was important enough to warrant security after all, after he had spent years being so low on the alert list people probably wouldn't have known who he was had he told them his name. But it was not to be said Carl Philip Bernadotte didn't know how to use a resource.

Not twelve hours after he had asked Sven he had the number saved to his own contact list, along with a warning not to discuss state secrets. He had been about to leave to watch a sailing race in his father's stead though, and only got to take out his phone after the event was over already.

It had been a short call but he did manage to add some innuendo and, what was probably most important except for his worries about the line being tapped, William did not seem to mind. That probably was a good sign, all things considered. A bad sign for the girl he had dumped, but if Carl was any judge, things had been difficult between the two of them for years already, and his little intervention certainly had not been the stumbling block.

His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by one of the participants he had previously worked with during the Volvo Ocean Race giving him a shove off the footbridge that landed him in the water. Clearly this was revenge for the one time during the Stockholm stopover of the Race, when Carl himself had sneaked up on some of the crew and pushed them right into the Baltic Sea - in June, so no one had frozen off their behinds. When he came up for air again, several of the other men had jumped in after him. Oh, they would come to regret this. Grinning, he swam over and proceeded to dunk the men trying to futilely flee from him.

~*~

More than a week passed before Carl had time to think about William again. With his older sister in New York attending the wedding of friends, all of her duties at home fell to him. That was simply unfair because for all intents and purposes he was a student and had better things to do, but that was simply how it was.

Now he was picking up Victoria and Daniel from the airport and if the newspaper displays he passed were any indication, the tabloids still hadn't let up on the fact that William's relationship had ended. It was late August and it took the headlines to remind Carl that the anniversary of the death of Lady Diana was imminent. Of course, the mostly English tabloids were drawing their own conclusions, much to his annoyance.

While he waited for Vicky, Carl wondered if maybe he should call William. On the other hand, that would possibly be pushing it; grief was a deeply private emotion and Carl remembered hating the prying eyes of reporters when he had been the one affected, he could not imagine how it was to have it dragged up by the media year after year. It took a few minutes until his sister appeared waving and running up to hug him hello, leaving Daniel to drag the suitcases.

"Making sure I get back to work okay, little brother?" Victoria grinned.

Daniel finally arrived and without much ceremony dumped one of the suitcases, which might just as well contain bricks with the thump they caused, at Carl's feet. "Might as well make yourself useful," he murmured and yawned. "Drove yourself, didn't you?" he added with a knowing smirk and Carl could only grin sheepishly in return before turning towards his sister.

"You know how much I hate standing in your spotlight." The suitcase was indeed heavy and Carl was grateful for the wheels attached. "Shall we?"

His sister talked with the unconcerned air of someone just returned from vacation throughout the drive back of dresses and shoes and let drop hundreds of names he couldn't place faces to. Victoria could keep a whole room of reporters on their toes all on her own and it was nothing short of a blessing to have her back. Carl didn't begrudge her her much needed time off, but he also didn't envy her the spot in the limelight.

~*~

The request from the Forsberg School was sent to the palace proper but quite quickly landed on his desk in Alnarp. If it didn't inconvenience His Royal Highness Prince Carl Philip, would it be possible for him to present a scholarship of the Forsberg's School of Graphic Design at the upcoming design exhibit in London?

Carl didn't believe in the existence of destiny, despite having grown up with the stories of the Norns, but he also had learned to seize opportunities when they presented themselves. William and he had continued to call back and forth, mostly late at night after he had received one such call the week after Vicky had returned from New York. William had sounded so very fed up and frustrated with everything that Carl had not even minded being woken up.

The press office was surprised when he signalled that he was indeed interested to take this request but the public relation guys also were pleased and probably attributed his interest to the fact that he had studied there. Consequently they informed the Buckingham Palace press office at once, as a foreign prince could not just show up on British soil in official capacity and not have Queen Elizabeth greet him. Carl's parents also were somewhat surprised but they also were used to such whims of his and they knew he had enjoyed his studies.

"Prince William was here for Victoria's wedding, wasn't he?" his mother asked on the phone a few nights before he would leave for a quick stay in Drottningholm before flying to Britain.

"Yes, mama. We met, I had a chat with him," he frowned at a towel on the bathroom rack before throwing it in the general direction of the laundry basket. "We've spoken since, he's a nice guy." No use making it anything less than it was, considering his phone connections could be looked at by anyone who wished and had the clearance, as a simple matter of security alone.

"That's good, dear. Do you think he'll be there? You will have dinner with us before leaving, right?"

He loved his mother but sometimes she forgot her children were all grown ups by now. "Mama, he's certainly not sitting around Clarence House waiting for one of the Bernadottes to show up, he has his own duties. I'll be at home the day after tomorrow, I have a class to finish up here."

The laundry pile was calling his name loudly, so he finished the call before his mother could make him promise to call his sisters before he was to leave. They had all been ganging up on him since he had split with Emma; at first trying to get them back together, then trying to take his mind off of the matter. And not to forget the fuss his family and the press alike had made about Sofia - granted, that had been a scheme designed to accomplish a little publicity for both of them, but it had been blown all out of proportion.

Family dinners were fun, for the most part. Things had been tense while his father was trying to come to terms with his oldest daughter falling in love with her fitness coach. Carl had been away with the military for the first few years and later convinced everyone he needed his own flat and then he had managed to land the internship in DC. And now things were tense again, as the press was still pursuing Madde over the matter of her cancelled engagement.

(And not quite everyone was as satisfied with the reasoning for his sudden whim as his mother. Victoria came to him that evening while he was sorting through his cameras, trying to decide which would be best suited to take with him. "Why do you want to go to London of all places?"

"I shagged Prince William at your wedding and want a repeat of that," he answered absently.

"Fine," she threw up her hands, "be that way! You'll tell me eventually anyway.")

Lying to the Queen of England probably was not advisable. Then again, he could hardly have told her that he and her grandson had spent several hours having a roll in the hay at Crown Princess Victoria's wedding and it would be nice to be friends now.

Also, Carl had to admit, seeing William's expression slip ever so briefly had been worth the man's weight in gold. Even more so when the Queen actually suggested he stay at Clarence House because her grandson had been 'gloomy'. This presented several opportunities to Carl, who had not actually counted on having enough time alone with Wills to actually talk about what they had painstakingly avoided on the phone.

Being ushered into a laundry closet had not been on his list of plans, though. At first he thought all the stress of his job might have finally gotten the better of William and his mind had snapped, until he explained about the bugs and other listening devices in his apartment. The British were a little nuts at times, Carl was coming to understand.

Going right back to kissing and sex had not been on his initial agenda, but there was this thing about opportunities and William was simply making it too easy. The man also was paranoid beyond rhyme and reason, but if Carl had been hounded like that for the past thirteen years he might just be the same. Still, almost stopping them right in the middle of sex was a bit much to take. Or perhaps playing at getting caught could turn into an entirely new kind of kink for them.

Which also did have it perks, because as far as Carl was concerned you could have sex with someone once and it didn't mean much, but repeat the exercise - and not on impulse but after talking about it and spending almost half an hour on scanning for freaking _listening devices_ \- and you had to at least entertain the notion of possibly repeating it again.

The fact that there indeed was affection between them didn't hurt these prospects either.

The exhibit was fun, all things considered. All the more so because William simply stared at a few of the displays, probably wondering what purpose they served. Especially where pieces of furniture were concerned; it seemed funny that a prince, who spent much of his time in palaces stuffed full of antique and uncomfortable furniture, did not understand the notion of looks before comfort.

Public appearances never sat well with Carl, they never had and it would never change, but William provided ample distraction. He also was a master at playing the public, so Carl left the lead to him, even though he was the one who would be presenting the scholarship. It was interesting to see someone doing it who was not related to him. He'd been watching Vicky at it for all their lives, yet William seemed to follow a different approach, even if Carl couldn't quite put his finger on the differences.

To ask if Wills would come for Yule had been foolish, even if he had been the one to bring up the idea of visiting in the first place. On the other hand, Carl was prepared to swear to all the gods old and new, he had been tempted by the idea. But maybe Wills was right and Carl was taking matters a little too lightly where the press and possible prying eyes of the staff were concerned.

"Careful your mum and dad don't find out that this is a good place for them to start looking for you when you're AWOL." Wills chuckled at the idea and Carl gave a weak smile before sitting up. Of course, William didn't know that exactly those calls had happened to both Wiveca and Emma. He sat up as well, leaned over and they were kissing again.

Sometimes, kissing was quite enough to make you happy.

"Get some sleep, Wills." Carl had napped for a few minutes earlier but he was rather sure William had done no such thing. Truth was, it was probably better for both of them if a stray maid did not catch them snuggled in bed together the next morning, but who would be coming into a man's bedroom at - he checked the clock - 2 am in the morning? Well there was security but what reason should they have to...maybe it was better not to go there. "7:30?"

The other man raised an eyebrow. "We're not going down to breakfast together. Oh and my father is back, if you haven't noticed."

"You really are too paranoid."

It turned out, at least in Carl's opinion, that going down to breakfast together might have been less embarrassing for Prince William of Wales. Breakfast was a communal affair in Clarence House if the Prince of Wales and his sons were in residence, and guests to the family usually were included in this. Especially if they stayed in the guest rooms of the private apartments. Carl wasn't sure when Wills had gone down, although it couldn't have been too soon beforehand, and he was about to walk through the door to the dining room where breakfast was served when he heard a voice that had to belong to Prince Charles, which stopped him in his tracks.

"Wills, really, you shouldn't bring girls home while Prince Carl Philip is visiting. It's impolite. And if you do, you might want to be a little more quiet, like your lady friend tonight, so not everyone in the house knows what's going on in your bedroom." It sounded a little chiding, a little amused, a lot smug.

Carl had to bite the inside of his cheek hard to keep from bursting out in laughter. He took a moment to compose himself before walking into the room at a brisk pace and snatching up a plate on his way to the side table. "Good morning," he called cheerfully. His greetings were a smile from Charles' wife Camilla, who he had only met in unofficial capacity and was not yet attaching any titles to her, a nod from the Prince of Wales himself and an alarmed look from Wills, who at least had the presence of mind to murmur a greeting in return.

Sidling up to William he reached for spoon and fork to start shovelling eggs onto his plate, the only part of an English breakfast that he could actually stomach aside from the white toast. He had always known the British were a little nuts and their breakfast dishes only confirmed this. "Is your bedroom above that of your father?" he asked quietly.

"I might have worked hard on forgetting that little detail," Wills murmured back under his breath and covered it up by clearing his throat.

Rolling his eyes while faced away from everyone else, Carl tried to reconsider what he was getting himself into here. And decided that next time, Wills maybe should visit him in Sweden where there was a whole duchy at Carl's disposal, should he wish so. Now the only trouble was how to nonchalantly make the invitation?

~*~

December 10th came and with it the annual tradition of the Nobel Prize Award Ceremony; the grand concert hall filling with people, the whole royal family seated at the head and King Carl XVI Gustaf awarding the laureates.

Ever since Carl had been required to attend he could not think of anything more boring. By now it was annual tradition for Madde to chastise him because he let his attention wander. You knew something had to be seriously off if your little sister was the one delivering the figurative elbow into your ribs.

It wasn't that he didn't appreciate the award itself or what it meant, or the prestige it brought to the country (after a fashion), or that he didn't appreciate the work that had gone into the research leading up to even being nominated. But most of the topics the Prize concerned just weren't his. Hard sciences like Chemistry or Physics, Biology and Medicine, those publications and those people's lives works just didn't mean anything to him. Now the Award for Literature he could get into and he always dutifully read the books of the laureate and the Peace Prize, unfortunately awarded in Oslo rather than Stockholm, was something he could appreciate, too. But the rest didn't mean enough to him to really matter.

"If you don't turn your eyes to the podium right this minute I will have someone tell the press you broke up with Emma because you can only have sex with your car," his younger sister hissed.

Carl had to wonder, what was worse, if the prince was having a kinky affair with his car or if he fancied another prince? Maybe it was better not to find out. A quick grin at his angry sister and his gaze wandered to the man being announced as the next laureate. At least he wasn't required to sit in on the Nobel Lectures, that might just put him to sleep instantly.

Twenty minutes later he slightly pursed his lips and looked towards the ceiling of the concert hall. What if that one gave way now? Well, they would all be buried of course; the royal family of Sweden, a bunch of genius scientists, authors and other people, a few hundred guests and, of course, several international political figures. Could be fun to witness the aftermath of that, on the other hand, Carl thought, he himself would either be dead or gravely injured. Maybe not such a good idea then. And William might worry.

Automatically he got up as the next laureate received his medal and almost yelped in pain and surprise as his thigh was pinched. Hard. Madde gave him that look again, the one that meant nothing good and he briefly considered asking the heavens for help but then decided it would do no good.

Where had he been...?

Oh right, Wills. He knew that a slow smile spread on his face and he did his best to quickly replace it with an attentive and interested mien, but he couldn't help the brief burst of joy that ran through him.

They were getting along pretty well in bed, even if Wills would not sleep while they were sharing one, for fear of being discovered, for panic of what might happen. The man simply was too high strung to relax, and while Carl did not exactly fancy rolling out of bed after the act was done, he accepted matters as they were and went to sleep in the guest room. But not without basking a little in post-coital bliss, because he had found they talked pretty well after getting off.

One of their problems was, aside from the fact that they probably should not be doing what they were doing, that they could not talk freely if they didn't stand face to face. Caution during phone conversations was important, their phone logs were being looked at anyway and tapping a line was one of the easier exercises for someone who knew what he was doing.

Carl must have appeared appropriately concentrated, because as they made their way towards City Hall for the Banquet, his younger sister smiled sweetly at him and patted the thigh she had pinched previously. There were times when he couldn't help but feel like a dog his sisters were trying to train in completely opposite fashions, doling out carrots and sticks as they saw fit and he could see where that left him, while always providing the perfect escort for 'his girls'. He idly wondered if maybe his family was just a little but crazy too, although they would never reach the level the Windsors had achieved in the past three decades.

The solution for the phone problem came to him late that evening when they were among the last remaining guests and he was pretty much just waiting for them to leave. He was watching the security guards tap their ear pieces before one of them seemed to get fed up and took out his mobile and barked a few words into it. Maybe it was much easier than they had thought.

He had to wait until the next day before he could do anything, though. Getting away from the palace was easy as always, finding a coffee shop that wasn't too exposed was not hard either. Finding the security officer assigned to him seemed to be the really hard task; the first time the Säpo man was potentially useful for anything and he was nowhere to be seen. What was the man's name again?

"Sven." He knew the man was there, lurking somewhere.

Suddenly a presence seemed to materialise next to him. "Yes, Sir?"

Blinking, Carl turned in his chair to look up at the other man. "It's quite unnerving if you do that, you know?" He gestured at the chair across from him. "Sit down."

"Sorry, Sir." But he did sit.

"You were the one who got me the mobile number of Prince William, correct?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I need a favour in the same vein, so to speak. Did you want anything?" Carl took a sip of his own coffee.

"Please, Sir, it is not the number of Prince Harry you want, is it?"

He blinked. "Uhm. No, not really." The security officer looked like a heavy weight had fallen off his heart but didn't make any further comment. The Säpo sometimes had some weird notions, Carl decided. "I need a secure line to the Prince and I'm not sure how to go about that."

"Well, Sir, that's not quite my department and probably would require some explaining and I'm not sure-"

"How did they do it when my sister started dating Daniel? And don't try to tell me otherwise, I know a line existed, I'm just not sure how secure it was." He had heard those calls late at night, he had even covered for Victoria more times than he could count.

The other man sighed. "We had a line set up then, but I wasn't in charge of anything. A dummy service provider, if I recall correctly, and-"

"Can it be done?"

Sven studied him for a moment and Carl didn't know what he was looking for, but he obviously found it because a nod was his eventual answer. "It can be done."

"Then see that it gets done. And please deliver it, personally. I'd really hate for this to fall into the wrong hands." He ordered a second coffee, and even though Sven had said nothing he also ordered one for his security officer.

"Me? But, Sir, the RPD... And I can't leave your side, my job-"

"Is safe, I'll stay nice and put here at home while you're gone. After I returned from London last month you took two more trips there. Now, I'm not about to comment on whatever you do on your days off, but you seem to be familiar with the city and you and Prince William's RPD officer have been the respective liaisons for the exhibit, so the two of you should be able to hash something out." The coffee came and they spent a minute in silence, each regarding the other. "Or is that going to be a problem?"

"No, Sir."

Carl smiled. "Good man."

~*~

William called two days after Christmas and didn't waste much time with perfunctory Holiday wishes. "Gran is about to call your father to ask him if he's willing to put up with us for a while."

"Come again?" Put up with whom, exactly?

Wills sighed and it sounded far more tired than it should just after Christmas. "Harry and dad got to blows yesterday. Over...something silly. No one was bleeding but gran wants Harry gone for a while, but not unsupervised and I'm not staying in London alone with dad in that kind of mood. And then she remembered you and what you said when you were last here. It ended with 'But I can't send Harry to Gustaf alone...' and that's where I fit in."

"Well." Carl tried to imagine what that must have been like and he found it all too easy. "We'll be in Kiruna for part of January so- Hold on." A knock on the door had sounded and he turned around in time to see his father enter. "Hey listen, I got to go. Talk to you later." He said it in Swedish rather than English and hoped Wills got the gist or had assimilated enough of the language by now to have understood.

While he wasn't as paranoid as William, there was no reason to upset the apple cart where his father was concerned.

~*~

It was during their Sweden holiday that they became friends.

They had always come to a mutual understanding in bed; the sex had been good and the talking after sex had never been boring but there had never been much for them to do, other than chat and fuck. It was different here, in the white world that was Sweden's polar night and Carl felt something ever so subtle shift between them and click into place.

During the day there were plenty of activities and more often than not they weren't in any way organised but they could do whatever they wanted. It was a lucky coincidence they both preferred snow mobiles over dog sleds and ski races over sitting around in the sun. The evenings were spent together or in small groups, talking or playing cards and chess. William had a mean poker face, while Harry's emotions showed too much on his face. He took his losses good naturedly though and didn't become angry; Harry was surprisingly well behaved in general and Carl couldn't help but wonder if it was something in London that made him overreact on a regular basis.

He brought this up with William one afternoon as they waited their turn at the lift, but Wills just shrugged. "I have long given up trying to figure out what goes on in Harry's head."

"I thought you got along?"

"We do," Wills answered after a moment of staring into the dark a little wistfully. "He's my brother, and we'll always have each other's back. That doesn't mean I have to know how exactly he cooks up those insane notions of his."

Since sex was out of the question, as well as pretty much all other intimacies aside from a quick and playful grope or quick kiss now and again far away from prying eyes, it was reassuring to find out that they got along well during every day activities and even shared tastes where books and movies were concerned. Although it was still somewhat worrisome how Wills was simply able to completely tune out the presence of security personnel around them. That was made more than obvious when Carl caught the man assigned to Wills more than once with his eyes where they didn't really belong. Not that he was overly concerned by it, it was just something he noticed.

"I think your RPD man has been checking me out," he said one evening to Wills as they stored away some of their gear in an anteroom.

"My what?" William looked around searchingly as if Carl would bring it up when the guy was right there.

"The guy they sent to have an eye out so you don't get yourself eaten by an elk? Tall, dark, handsome?"

Wills looked around. "You think he's handsome?"

Rolling his eyes Carl gently slapped the other man against the back of his head. "A minute ago you didn't even know who I was talking about!"

"I still don't, I simply think if you think he's handsome maybe I should have a look, too," he grinned.

"Don't worry, pretty boy, even if the age where it was all about looks hadn't passed, you'd still come up on top. For once, at least," Carl leered and they laughed until Madde came in to ask what the ruckus was all about, looking at them as if they'd lost their minds.

He sat with Vicky the evening she had announced her pregnancy after everyone else had gone to bed already. It was a time-honoured tradition, that would probably come to an end with the birth of that child, that the two of them stayed up one night of the week together after everyone else was asleep to chat. They had started this when Carl had been fourteen and between cocoa and tequilla shots they had probably gone through all possible beverages. It was one such night she had first confided to him she had fallen in love with her fitness coach. They were back to cocoa now.

"Are you happy?" Vicky asked with a lopsided smile, probably having seen the relief that had been almost palpable to him when she had said it.

"That's what I should ask you! But you're happy, aren't you?" True, Victoria having children meant he would never be required to sit on that throne and act as if he knew what he was doing when all he wanted to do was run as far as he could.

She grinned. "I'm very happy."

"I'm glad." He smiled back and for the longest while they didn't say anything at all.

"So what do you think of our...guests?" she eventually asked cautiously while stirring in her cup with a spoon.

"'Though this madness'..." He could hardly tell her about the laundry closet in Clarence House but there were plenty of other things to mention. "Well. Maybe the girls aren't. Mad, that is."

Vicky chuckled. "But those two princes are, huh?"

"You do read the papers, don't you?"

"I also know you came back from that design award thing in pretty high spirits, little brother." That smile, like the proverbial cat who got the cream and as if she knew everything. Carl really hoped she didn't, although he would put nothing past her. Not even second sight. "You had a good time, didn't you?"

He shrugged. "I get along well with William; he likes trashy action flicks, too. But all the rest of them..." he trailed off.

"Well, I guess Harry is...not quite representative-"

"Sis," Carl interrupted her. "Charles has an Aston Martin that runs on _surplus wine_. He also talks to his roses. And their other cars go on old cooking oil!"

The laughter his sister erupted into brought her Säpo officer into the kitchen, weapon drawn and looking more than just a little confused when he found the Crown Princess of Sweden sitting at the table, beating on the top of it with her fist and laughing so hard tears streamed down her face, with her brother sitting at her side looking downright miserable.

~*~

German autobahns had the decided advantage that quite a few of them didn't have a speed limit. Also, if you used them during the night, they were mostly empty except for a few trucks in the right lane. What you had to look out for in January was black ice suddenly appearing, but when the whole of January had not seen a night below freezing, that was unlikely.

Carl made better time here than he had expected, practically flew along the middle and left lanes - the Germans were good in maintaining their roads, hands down - towards the Benelux and further into France. It was a little bit insane, making a trip from Stockholm to the south of England for a bit of nookie, but after he and Wills had been around one another for all of that holiday with hands off, he really didn't care.

"I'll be in Hastings for the wedding of a friend for a few days, don't try to reach me here," Wills had said and it had spun out from there. At first Carl had just teased him about going on holiday again after having just returned from Sweden, then Wills had said it was a friend from school and how it was convenient that he could stay in Aunt Sarah's cottage. They had fallen silent and by the time Wills had dictated him the address, Carl had already stuffed some clothes into a sports bag and was looking for car keys.

Getting away from security was way too easy after a few years of practise, and it didn't hurt that his sisters always swapped stories with him when they were younger. He _had_ left a note about being back three days hence, and he had the sneaking suspicion that Sven knew exactly what he was up to these days as the guard had given him more than one stern talking about about just vanishing, but that was all Carl was willing to do. And it was not his security officer's business who their prince was seeing, as long as it didn't present a danger to him or his family.

William was crazy if he really thought no one had noticed anything. Even if Victoria didn't have an inkling - Carl still hadn't managed to learn anything despite careful probing - they had RPD and Säpo interacting regularly simply by stunts like the one they were pulling right now. He could not seriously be thinking they hadn't done the math. But Carl had found it was easier to leave Wills with his belief in their genius rather than fuel the man's paranoid tendencies.

The Eurotunnel was one of the most boring experiences he'd ever had a in a car while not in an official capacity and he wondered if maybe flying wasn't the better alternative, at least if Wills was in a more accessible location. One might argue about the accessibility of Hastings but the German autobahns were simply too attractive to pass on.

Buying lube in Dover while getting a bite to eat and stretching his legs was more an afterthought than anything else, but he didn't know if Wills had the presence of mind to toss the stuff in with his own luggage and saliva really wasn't an adequate substitute.

His suspicions regarding the security staff were confirmed a little more than an hour later when William's standing RPD person opened the front door without waiting for him to knock and held a mobile out to him. "For you, your Highness. Your security officer."

Sighing, Carl took the phone from the man's hand. If the two guards didn't know what was going, he would exchange the GT for one of Prince Charles' wine-running vehicles. A look over his shoulder at the once-white sports car made him shudder at the prospect. "Sven."

"Sir, you can't keep doing this!" The man was obviously more than just displeased. Furious might be the right word for it. "Everyone is looking high and low for you!"

"I left a note, didn't I?" Cryptic enough to leave them wondering, but at least they knew he hadn't been kidnapped or something.

"Sir!"

"You found me, didn't you?" he sighed and threw a wistful look towards the cottage's interior.

That didn't seem to placate Sven though. "Yes, but only because Mike-"

"Aha, Mike, is it? Interesting." That was a way too familiar tone of voice there; but then the two of them had been the liaison officers for all their official visits so far so maybe that explained that. "Look, Sven, you know where I am, you can just as well come and get me, we can split the drive back. You get England and the Eurotunnel, I get Germany. Maybe you can catch up some with Mike here, I don't think he's too thrilled to be stuck all by his lonesome. I'll see you then."

He handed the mobile back to Mike, thanked him and was directed towards the living room.

There was something to desperate, frantic sex. Tearing off William's clothes with the fierce desire of getting them both naked an hour ago, now that he knew what was to be expected, was different than what they had done in June or even in November. This was simple need-you-now-now-now and laughing until they were weak about it later.

Carl could go without sex for months and not mind it much, instant gratification not - unless he was on the track - being something easily available to him, as HRH Prince Carl Philip Bernadotte of Sweden. This was different. They had spent practically every day of the holidays together, and they'd had more fun than had been expected of them, yet this had been missing from making him feel truly fulfilled. He didn't stop to examine what that meant exactly, there would be time for that later, when he wasn't almost asleep, head pillowed on William's shoulder after having come twice.

He wasn't exactly sure what woke him later - several hours later, as a look at his watch told him - because he was comfortable and warm with his lover's arm slung around his middle and regular deep breathing puffing against the back of his neck. William was obviously asleep and wasn't that a first. But there was no staff to catch them here, except the lone RPD officer and he did not get any acknowledgement by his prince. Ignorance was probably bliss in this case, indeed.

Carl carefully turned around, as to not wake the other man, tucked himself snugly beneath William's chin and closed his eyes again to sleep some more. He then became aware of the muted voices somewhere in the house. Seemed like maybe Sven had caught up with him, else...Mike, was it? would probably have come storming in to save Prince William from imminent danger. Maybe it had been a door opening and closing that had woken him.

~*~

February was the right time for test drives on ice.

The team had chosen a lake in Värmland and cleared a track on it after checking the ice. They had brought several of their racing models there by truck and were now waiting for the chick among them to climb out of his vehicle, whooping with glee.

Clouds covered the sky but there had been no snow in the forecast for the next few days, so their track would hold for a while yet. Carl looked over at Hansa, who also was looking at the sky trying to gauge the development there. Life was good.

Life would be even better as soon as Sven got back with William, who had officially been invited by the Duke of Värmland for a visit to the province. That this would include drive-control tests had not been transmitted but that was hardly something he would announce to the whole of Clarence House. Sven had been reluctant to leave, but had gone willingly enough when Carl had promised to stay put. The security officer hated his racing as it put Carl out of the man's immediate control.

He was just on the track himself when the earpiece, that was his concession to Säpo sensibilities and sensitivities, came to life and Johan spoke loudly into his ear, "Hey CP, got a new mascot?"

Carl flicked around a corner and accelerated, knowing he had a huge grin on his face. "Hands off, he's mine!"

"Don't get your knickers in a knot, he's too stereotypically Scandinavian to be of any use to me," the mechanic laughed. "Tall, blond, blue eyed..."

"Without actually being Scandinavian?" He flicked around the last corner and raced down the last bit of the track.

"You got it, bro. There you are." The earpiece went silent as Carl came to a skidding halt far enough away that no one would choke on exhaust and dispersed snow. He exited the car grinning widely at his crew and waving at Wills with a wink, who looked somewhat sceptical. In the background leaned Sven and William's RPD officer against the armoured car, drinking something hot. Grog, if they were smart, would warm them up and Carl could be the one driving them back to civilisation.

"Hey." Carl grabbed a random helmet from the rack and threw it towards Wills, who caught it but looked considerably confused. "Met everyone already?"

"I guess. What's this about?"

"We're doing drive control tests. And see how the new setups behave under extreme circumstances." He turned towards Johan, who had talked to him during the drive just now, and nodded at the GT3. "We need to see about the back wheels, I don't think they get quite enough power. And there's too much torque steer. I'll go another round and you have a closer look?"

The man nodded and Carl went back to William's side, who had crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"I googled. Did you know they call you the Duke of Vroomland?" More whooping sounded behind them, mixed with laughter.

Carl stuck his tongue out at his teammates briefly before returning his attention to Wills. "I earned that title," he answered grinning. Actually, he knew he was too old to still be amused and just a little proud of it but whatever. "Want to come with me?"

William's smirk fell and he hesitated. "I don't know."

"Come on." Carl grabbed the other man's wrist and pulled him after him, noticing in his peripheral vision that the RPD guard wanted to protest but was restrained by Sven with a hand pressed to the other man's belly. Interesting. "It's fun. Very zen. You, me, the track."

"Zen," Wills said mockingly, "is that why you never win?"

"I'm hurt," Carl grinned as he pushed his lover into the passenger seat to 'Duke of Vroomland' catcalls after he put the helmet on but with visor open. "It's not about winning, it's about doing what I love. You'll see." He slid into the driver's seat, buckled up and off they were. The track had a long drawn-out straight at the beginning for acceleration testing and in less than ten heartbeats they were going 160 kilometres an hour.

It took him long moments to notice William's rigid pose and they were already well past the small island the track had been designed around before he felt a hand like a vice twisted into the upper arm of his sweater. Something was definitely wrong, but he took the time to decelerate in a controlled manner before skidding the car to a halt and turning to his passenger. "Wills."

But William was panting sharply, almost hyperventilating and his eyes behind the open visor were wide. His earpiece came to life and Johan's voice sounded. "CP? You okay? One security guy on my case is bad enough already but now there's two of them and they're keeping me away from my work. Why did you stop?"

Carl blinked. "We're fine Jo, no trouble. Give me a minute here, send no one on the track. And keep those bloody guards away from us." He ripped the small device away from his ear, turned it off and let it fall to the floor. Wills still had his hand tangled in the fabric of his clothes and this was not a good sign.

"William." He slowly reached for that hand and pried it away from his clothes, keeping it between his own. The fingers were ice-cold, but that might have been due to the sub-zero temperatures. Looking outside just showed him the white blanket of snow the world had been covered with. The interior of the car had not taken fire, there was no reason for the other man to be- Belatedly he realised the impact of delayed trauma; someone who had lost a loved one in an unintended car race might react negative to an even remotely similar situation.

Wills was a helicopter pilot, going a hundred miles an hour shouldn't faze him like that but this...

"William, look at me," he commanded. Military men, no matter how far up the chain of command, were conditioned to a certain tone of voice. Eyes, still wide, snapped towards him. "This is safe."

It took a moment until Wills seemed to understand what the words meant and his eyes lost the shocked expression. He pulled his hand back and took off the helmet. "You're driving us out onto a frozen body of water at break-neck speed and call this _safe_? Do you check your mind in by receiving that license?"

"It's a race car, we've been doing these tests for years. With enough traction, four wheel drive and a little bit of training it's perfectly safe. There's nothing to crash into save a bit of snow, this car is one of the safest you can find. I'm more likely to be hit by lightning than die in a crash with this car." Probably not quite true but it did serve its purpose of making William _think_, get him out of panic's grip.

A frown appeared in his face. "I guess," he finally conceded.

Carl smiled and started up the car again. "I promise I'll look out for you."

"You're an advocate of shock therapy, huh?" Helmet in his lap, Wills leaned back in the seat and obviously did his level best to relax.

Smiling still, Carl reached out a hand to touch the other man's face. "Well, mostly I wasn't thinking. But I also have to trust in my own ability, else participating in the Cup would be a futile exercise. Trust me, Wills, I have no intention of steering you false."

William gave a little answering smile and turned his head to kiss his fingertips. "I'm still sitting here, right? Go on, finish your exercise."

Of course, Sven had not let him drive them back; the Säpo officer had dropped them off at Carl's cottage before leaving with the RPD officer for some hotel or other, most likely. He didn't really know where security was staying when they were in Värmland, nor did he care too much as long as he was left alone.

It was probably better that way, too, considering they probably were loud enough that evening to warrant a whole Säkerhetspolisen squad. Life-affirming sex - which in and by itself was a reiteration because sex would always be an act confirming life - was very hot, very loud and very exhausting, at least that's what Carl made of it. The fact that he had discovered how he could keep Wills on the verge of orgasm without quite allowing him over the threshold was a so far unequalled thrill.

"Will it drive you insane if I keep racing?" he asked aloud into the quiet of the bedroom, Wills asleep at his side with one arm thrown over his chest. It was probably a good thing he didn't expect an answer, because other than the regular breaths of sleep there was none. "I can't watch you react like that whenever a fast car is involved."

He turned his head so he could watch the sleeping man's face. "I'm not in a position to take away hurt and worry that others have caused." He probably wasn't in a position to keep Wills from getting hurt and worried again, by others or even by Carl himself, but he wasn't about to say that out loud. Not even to someone who was dead to the world.

It was another ten or so minutes until the arm over his chest flexed and Wills started to stir. Blinking into the twilight he propped himself up and yawned. "How long was I asleep?"

"About an hour." Carl leaned forward and kissed Wills lightly on the lips, then reached towards the nightstand. "Water?"

"Yes, thank you. Sorry for falling asleep on you like that, it's just...," he trailed off, drank a few large gulps.

Carl shrugged. "You had a long day and a flight. Don't worry about it."

Wills was silent for a while, the tips of his fingers mapping Carl's skin, lingering on a small, almost invisible scar from a riding accident twenty years ago. "Your team seems nice."

"They're a good crowd," Carl nodded, smiled. "They don't treat me like royalty."

Wills grinned. "No they don't. They didn't care me being there either." Which was true, William had indeed been treated like his mascot. Probably because, despite jesting, no one was seriously thinking they were anything more than friends. "Does everyone call you CP?"

He shrugged. "Most of my friends do. Carl Philip is too long, Carl reminds them a lot of my father. And CP works."

"What about your family?"

"My sisters call me Carl. My mother doesn't use my name, unless she's yelling but then she uses the whole rat's tail of it. Same with my sisters' there. My father calls me son or Carl Philip. Why?"

"Just curious." It was William's turn to shrug, but he wouldn't meet his eyes. "When I was little my parents called me Wombat. Once I found out what a wombat was I refused to listen when called that. Wills stuck though," he smiled.

Carl decided maybe that was the last opportunity for a while to ask. He had silently promised his lover and himself a while ago already that he would never touch several subjects unless Wills started talking about them by himself. But there was another question he needed answering. And he wasn't sure where things would go, no matter the answer.

"Can you look at me?"

It took a moment until a pair of serious blue eyes met his and Carl put one hand on his lover's chest. Not to keep him away or retain a distance between them but so he could feel his heart. Somehow, he felt he needed that.

"Is it okay for you that I'm racing?"

His answer was immediate and unambiguous, as Wills smiled happily and slid the hand that had been mapping his skin into his hair to pull him closer. Their kiss was sweet and full of smiles and promises. "Yes," William answered when he drew back, "but it was nice of you to ask. Even if it was a token question." The last was added with a wink and another kiss that quickly turned into a lot more.

Carl knew he would not have given up racing, it meant too much to him, but it was nice to have approval from the one person who might, one day, have been able to change his mind.

~*~

Carl met his more-pregnant-by-the-day sister in the entrance hall of Haga Palace. He had dropped by to visit but been told his sister was out and wouldn't he want to wait? Coffee with Daniel looked promising, as he hadn't seen too much in recent weeks of his sister's husband.

"Oh hi," Victoria smiled but it seemed a little artificial. No surprise, considering who he'd just seen dropping off her and her bodyguard.

"Hey sis. How are you doing?"

The smile turned genuine and she patted her belly. "We're doing quite well, thank you."

They looked at each other for a while until she gave in and shrugged. "You saw her, didn't you?"

Carl nodded and cocked his head. "How is she?"

"Good! New boyfriend, old job, new clients. That's what you wanted to know, wasn't it? Come, help me put this drawing up, it goes well in the dining room." She thrust a wrapped parcel into his hands that felt like a framed canvas and he followed her, resigning to a fate that he would never shake off.

"You have staff for things like this!"

"But you're good at this. And you're my little brother, now help your pregnant older sister make her home pretty. There that wall, hold it against that." She pointed towards the wall opposite the window and crossed her arms over her chest, making her belly look even bigger than it was.

Sighing, he unwrapped the parcel and had a look at the drawing himself. Oil on canvas; stormy seas, spray, roiling clouds. It almost looked like the scene was in flux. Pretty indeed but he wasn't so sure it was the right scape for the dining room. But arguing with Victoria didn't usually lead anywhere, so he discarded the wrapping paper and held the framed image up above his head and followed her directions until she seemed satisfied.

"Yes! Like that. Now get a ladder and some nails, if you don't mind." It wasn't a good idea, the staff would be furious, but this wasn't his responsibility.

He was hammering away at a nail - and really, this should be done properly with screws and dowels - when Victoria said gently, "She's doing very well, Carl, you don't need to worry."

He shot her a quick look, then turned around as to not overbalance and fall off his perch. "I'm not worrying, exactly."

"But you're concerned." It had never been easy to hide his emotional state from Victoria and she was friends with Emma, too. If your sister was friends with your former girlfriend it could get complicated, no matter how amiable the separation had been. "You needn't be. I told her the same."

"You're not supposed to lie for me, Vicky," he said and placed the frame on the nails, then climbed down the ladder to check if it was truly straight.

His sister put an arm around his shoulders and leaned her head against him. "I wasn't aware I was doing so."

~*~

Normal people, if a prince suddenly showed up on their doorstep unannounced, would probably either faint or think their mind had snapped. Carl, when a certain British prince showed up on his doorstep without warning, threw a dismayed look at the laundry pile in one corner, random books and dvds lying scattered around, thought of the empty food cartons in the kitchen and almost shut the door in William's face again.

Having learned impulse control long ago though, he refrained from following that instinct and just stared at the man, a little dumbfounded. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"Well, you're not the only one who can evade his security. Nice to see you too, by the way. Can I come in?" Wills looked along the empty hallway and seemed slightly uncomfortable just standing there.

Carl looked behind him once more, shrugged and opened the door wider. "I would have cleaned up if you'd called."

"Don't worry, I'm living with the biggest slob of the Commonwealth. I had no time to call, I slightly redirected the car to the airport and was on a plane within thirty minutes. I'm sure you were still asleep by then." Wills stepped in, threw the door shut, and Carl was damned if he knew who had made the first move but they were kissing hungrily the next instant.

It was nice how just kissing was sometimes enough to make you entirely happy, you didn't need to be naked for that. When they broke away for air Carl's thoughts were racing, because his couch really wasn't comfortable enough for sex, his bed needed new sheets and it wasn't even noon and anyway, William's security would storm the building sooner or later, especially as Sven was off duty right now.

Something else occurred to him. "How did you know I was here?" He had fled to his apartment after Madde had started fighting with their mother and Carl had studying to do.

Wills followed him along the hallway and poked his head curiously into all rooms they passed. Not that there was terribly much to see. "I didn't," he called from the bedroom. "I just thought I'd try here before having to explain at the palace's why I'm there." He re-emerged and found Carl in the kitchen where he was stuffing empty take out cartons into a trash bag. "Mate, your bed needs new sheets."

"I don't think we have a maid outfit big enough lying around, but sheets are in the hallway closet, the washing machine is in the bathroom, if you want to make yourself useful." He threw a balled up paper napkin at Wills, who caught it effortlessly, grinning.

"You have a washing machine?"

Carl nodded absently and set the bag aside to toss out later. "When I was at Forsbergs the laundry service complained all the time, because they didn't have access to the flat and I was sick of them ringing me up early mornings when I'd finished an assignment during the night."

He looked around and realised that while the cleaning would not magically do itself, there was no reason for them to stay cooped up here. Sven would have to start duty early. Normally Carl wouldn't bother waiting for security, but the probability that someone might recognise Wills was simply too high. Carl himself kept a low enough profile that no one tended to pay much attention but William...

"Would you like to get some coffee and a bite to eat?"

"You mean," Wills blinked, "outside?"

Carl nodded. "Just let me change into a pair of jeans, sweatpants might be a little too conspicuous."

"Carl-"

"Wills, look. This is Sweden, if people are on the lookout for a blond royal, it's my sister. Peoples' expectations are a funny thing, they can see you and me together and never make the connection, because what should you be doing here? And I've only been recognised twice in the last few years." There was no need to tell him they would have security, let him have the illusion they could go about completely left alone. "You'll get a cap. And lose the jacket and tie, your coat's quite enough."

It was fun to look at Wills, always so closely watched by the press, sit outside a café in the early spring sunshine on one of the first warm days of the year, looking puzzled. Every once in a while he would throw a look around if really no one was coming up to him, but they stayed unmolested. Carl, who had opted for jeans, t-shirt and a denim jacket, could not help smirking and reassuring him again and again that everything was fine. Sven had positioned himself in line of sight and every so often checked his cell phone, but other than that everything remained quiet.

"This is really nice," Wills said on the way back to Carl's flat, a leisurely stroll from the place where they had eaten and shopped for some toiletries and a change of clothes for him. "Can I come again?"

Carl smiled and if the need for privacy hadn't been so deeply ingrained into both of them he would have taken William's hand. "You can come as often as you like."

Later that day he received a written note from Sven that William's RPD officer had arrived. Also, that there had been a single photographer who thought to have recognised him as Carl Philip, Prince of Sweden but when he had seen William he had muttered something about bloody doppelgängers.

~*~

Hearing Wills say he loved him was scary.

It stayed scary until Carl had said it, too, and then there was only happiness.

That also was why it grated all the more on him that William couldn't be there for his birthday, but there were obligations in London he hadn't managed to get out of. You didn't disobey orders given out directly by the Queen of England.

Still, Carl missed his lover terribly during the family celebration, even though his sisters tried to make the trip from Alnarp and back worthwhile simply by presenting him with a pair of snow chains for every imaginable tire-type. They probably got more fun out of this than everyone else but despite the laughs it was still a present chosen with consideration.

He could hardly wait for the evening when he impatiently sat in his apartment awaiting his mobile to ring. It was after eleven when it finally did and William sounded beyond tired in his greeting. They had spoken very briefly that morning already, Wills wanting to be the first to congratulate him before duty claimed them both.

"How was your day?"

"You sound like I should ask you that," Carl said sympathetically. "I got snow chains!" He couldn't keep the grin from his face or his voice. His sisters had always had the most outrageous presents for him.

Once, when they had been children and Madde had been too young to understand the difference between boys and girls - and it seemed almost prophetic now - she had presented him with a box with a live frog in it. So that if he kissed it, she said, it would turn into a prince he could be happy with. Vicky had almost chocked on her cake from laughter, their father had just stared and it had fallen to their mother to get rid of the animal.

Growing up with two sisters was as much curse as it was blessing.

"I'm happy for you. I guess," Wills sounded dubious but had obviously chosen to indulge his lover's antics. "Entertaining state guests is...really boring. I don't even know why gran has compelled me to do this, does she want to sentence me to death by making me hang myself with my tie in the salon?" The frustration was almost palpable and Carl had to wonder at this. William had always shown heavenly patience with everything involving his status, this was a new side Carl was seeing.

"Maybe she wants you to find a wife already." It was meant mostly as a joke, which was why his lover's next statement came as something of a shock.

"Then she wouldn't have me meet the Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg tomorrow."

His silence must have been louder than he thought, because there was a sound like fingernails tapping against plastic. "Carl?"

"Prince Guillaume?" he finally managed to ask.

Papers rustled on the other side and Carl could understand that much, keeping track of the European nobility was a life's task on its own. "Ah. Yes, Prince Guillaume, heir apparent of Luxembourg. Have you met him?"

"If you cheat on me I'll have the Säpo hunt you down and present me your head on a spit to roast over an open fire," he threatened.

"Excuse me?" Wills seemed confused.

"Wills, have you ever met him?"

"Not so far, my father has a few times but-"

"The man is gayer than a tree of monkeys on nitrous oxide."

The line was quiet for a moment. "Did you just quote Pratchett at me?"

"I might have. I'm serious Wills, if you so much as notice him looking at you with puppy dog eyes, you run, are we clear?" He knew he was being unreasonable but Guillaume brought his hackles up, ever since they had met for the first and only time eight years ago, when Carl had suddenly found the other man's hand on his crotch during the main course at dinner.

"Wait, wait, are you _jealous_?" When Carl only grumbled something unintelligible Wills voice turned gleeful, "You are!"

"Maybe I am. Just promise me you'll be careful." He hated asking for faithfulness because in his conception of a relationship - and he had stopped lying to himself about this not being one long before the declaration of love last month already - that went without saying, but he could not transfer his own standards to his partner. He had never had reason for even the shadow of a doubt where Wills was concerned, but Guillaume was a whole different league. At least in Carl's opinion.

"I promise I'll never leave the sight of 'tall, dark and handsome'," Wills said warmly but with a hint of amusement. "Deal?"

"And you call me tomorrow evening when you're alone right away," Carl demanded and he knew how silly it must sound. But Wills only laughed and agreed to that as well.

The mobile rang at exactly 21:11 o'clock the next evening in Carl's flat in Alnarp. He would never admit to it, but he might have been pacing. Picking up with the first ring might have been a bit fast, but after yesterday he could hardly embarrass himself further, so whatever.

"Oh Lord," Wills said in lieu of greeting, "that man is such a poofter."

Carl slumped onto his bed. "Tell me he didn't try anything."

His lover chuckled. "He didn't try anything. Mostly for lack of opportunity, I guess. Hey Carl."

"Hm?"

"What are you wearing right now?"

~*~

Victoria's scream for him late that one evening in June set Carl's teeth on edge and he was off his bed and running towards his sister's old apartment in an instant.

She and Daniel were back at Drottningholm while the nursery at Haga Palace was being renovated and set up, Madeleine was meeting up with friends this week and Carl had come up from Alnarp while their parents were away to take over the duties that Vicky was unable to perform due to her advanced pregnancy.

He took the last corner, not quite sure what he would do if something was wrong with the baby, but instead he saw his brother-in-law lying on his back on the floor, holding his side and his face a grimace of pain. He was panting sharply, sounds of pain escaping him.

"What happened?" Something was obviously wrong with the kidney but what? Victoria was kneeling awkwardly on the floor, face wet with tears as she looked up at him.

"I don't know! Do something!" She was crying hard, touching Daniel's face, made uselessly soothing sounds.

Cursing, Carl turned around and took two steps out the door, yelling for his younger sister. He wasn't cut out for dealing with emergencies.

Going back to Daniel and Vicky, he made the other man look at him. "Daniel, where does it hurt?"

The other man's gaze focused on him slowly and he barely managed to whisper, "Kidney", before shivers wrecked him again. Madeleine had appeared in the meantime and he could feel her standing in silent shock behind him.

"Madde, get my car keys and alarm security," he commanded curtly but she didn't seem to have heard. Only when he turned his head and looked at her directly and shouted at her to move did she scramble away.

"I'm not waiting for an ambulance," he looked at his sister, "and he's going to the hospital."

She nodded, tears still streaming down her face. It seemed to take forever until a set of keys dropped next to him on the floor and he threw a quick look to Madeleine. "Get the damn car, out front. We'll be there in a bit. Daniel, you need to get up."

His only answer was a shake of head.

"You need to get up. I can't carry you. Come on, we'll help." Slowly, in ever so little increments, they managed to make Daniel sit up and put him on his feet. Carl took the brunt of his weight, Vicky just making sure both of them kept their balance.

An eternity later they came outside and Madde already waited in the car. "Get out. The two of you can follow with security." It was unreasonable. They should have called an ambulance and waited, but Daniel was burning up and if he was honest, Carl didn't know if the man could wait that long.

"I'm coming with you," Victoria stated and her voice sounded all too stubborn through the tears. For a second Carl stared at his sister, but it was clear she wouldn't budge; he nodded and looked around.

"Where are those damn guards?"

"Getting ready," Madeleine said quietly, her face pale in the outside lights.

He couldn't wait for them. It was insane, he should let one of them take Daniel in, they were trained to act under stress. When you started racing one of the first things they taught you was you never ever got behind the wheel if you were angry or upset or emotionally unstable. But it seemed he didn't have much choice. "Tell them we're at New Karolinska."

Carl slid into the driver's seat and turned the key in the ignition. The engine came to life, Victoria buckled up carefully on the passenger side and off they were.

Had anyone asked him later, he would not have been able to remember details about that ride. The usual controlled calm he had during the Cup was gone. All he knew was he reached the hospital, where Daniel had his kidney transplanted in the first place, in barely ten minutes and he hoped he had not caused any accidents in his wake.

A lot of what happened from then on was a blur. Daniel was taken away and quickly transferred to ICU, Vicky was trying to be calm but suffered a panic attack after which she was sedated to prevent the baby from going into distress. Madeleine arrived at some point with two security officers in tow, visibly angry things had taken so long. He left her sitting with the sleeping Victoria and went to deal with doctors and nurses and paperwork.

Their parents needed to be called but when he did no one picked up on the other end of the line. Daniel's family would need to be told as well, but he didn't have any contact information for them, Vicky would have to supply this. Or maybe the hospital had them on record. A doctor came by eventually and said something about a kidney colic but that they couldn't be sure what had caused it before a few tests. Daniel was on broadband antibiotics for the moment to conquer whatever was causing the fever but so far there had been no change in his condition.

So Carl sat vigil over his sister for most of the night, when he wasn't trying to reach their parents. Eventually getting them on the line, he explained what had happened and this left him exhausted and drained of energy. He needed... Something. Coffee. A sympathetic ear which didn't belong to the medical or security profession.

His watch told him it was just after six in the morning. Wills would be awake and Carl knew it was unfair to be calling him at this time but William was the only one Carl wanted to speak to, the only one he wanted to listen. And if he was completely honest with himself he wanted a hug from the man he loved and not have to think for a while.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen. But Wills agreeing to come was a load off Carl's mind already, even though he had yet to think of an explanation for his sisters.

He stood in the door of the room they had brought Victoria to and watched his sister watching him for a few seconds, Madde's back turned to him. "I'm going to get everyone a change of clothes and something hot to drink. Any special wishes?"

Both of the girls just shook their heads. "There won't be an update for several hours yet. Try to get some more rest, both of you."

Their regular security had shown up at the hospital by then and he nodded to Sven to follow. "Did you bring a car? Because I'm not up to driving."

The older man scrutinised him for a moment. "I never thought I'd hear you say that, Sir."

"Yes," Carl smiled tiredly. "We need to get some fresh clothes and some coffee or something. Then I need you to drive out to the airport and collect Prince William, who will be arriving at some point within the next three or so hours. I don't know when exactly. Can you do that?" He was in the back seat of one of the armoured cars by now, trying not to fall asleep while talking.

"I can do that, Sir."

Wills was a caregiver. That would make him a good King one day, made him a good friend already. His presence alone made Carl feel better and it also looked like it helped Vicky, someone being at her side who wasn't immediate family, but who was there because he cared not because she was the Crown Princess but because of herself.

Carl was woken by a quick kiss to the lips and he looked around wildly. No one else was in the waiting room, one of her friends having taken Madde away yesterday and probably forbidden her, sensibly enough, to come back and Vicky was hopefully sleeping somewhere where there was a bed. That left him and Wills in the empty waiting room, which was probably kept intentionally so by security.

"I have to go," his lover smiled apologetically. He stroked a hand through Carl's hair, looking at him. "You're going to be okay, right?"

A furtive glance around showed Carl only two guards who were quietly talking with their backs to them so he seized the opportunity for a longer kiss and for putting his arms around his lover, squeezing tight. "Thank you for coming. You have no idea...," he trailed off.

Wills smiled. "Anytime. You call, I'll come flying. Love you."

They stood up and Carl heaved a sigh, nodded. "Love you, too. Take care getting home."

Three hours later, Daniel was awake and they had been in to see him briefly and he was definitely getting better. The fever was down, the pain, he said, had subsided to bearable levels. All of that was good.

Carl doubted it was good when he noticed Sven hanging up the phone and looking decidedly nervous. Nervous looking security officers weren't a good sign and he was about to go and ask what had happened - surely not something with William's plane, they would certainly have heard about _that_ already - when his parents finally arrived at the hospital, looking stressed and harrowed, and almost as tired as he was feeling, but finally there.

Somehow though, the questions after Daniel's status seemed nothing more than token consideration.

There was no one there, just Victoria, Carl and their parents and several minutes later suddenly silence spread between them. Vicky threw him a look but he just shrugged.

"Honey," their mother asked Vicky, heaving a big sigh, "was Prince William here?"

His sister blinked in surprise and looked confused. "Yes, but how-"

"We saw this before our departure in South Africa and again when we landed here," their father interrupted her and produced several papers from under his arm. British and Swedish tabloids, all claiming Wills was the father of Vicky's child. It also featured a photo from the day before, Wills holding Victoria in his arms, comforting her.

Vicky took one of the papers into her hands and stared at the headline, then looked her father in the eye, one hand on her swollen belly. "You can't possibly believe there is anything to it."

"No dear," Silvia soothed and put a hand to her arm. "Certainly not."

"However," her husband said, "I've seen Prince William more often in the last six months than ever before. It's Madeleine, right? Announcing a relationship between those two won't be a problem. She's a princess, she has a fitting religious denomination and they're both single. It'd be perfect."

"Pappa, Madde is definitely not having a secret relationship with William!" Vicky exclaimed incredulously.

"Then what's your explanation? There must be some reason for him hanging around the three of you all the time this year! I understand all of you have become friendly during the holidays but that's too much even-"

"It's me," Carl said into his father's tirade. "I- William and I have been seeing each other. Since November." Three pairs of eyes turned on him and he added for the benefit of the doubt, "Romantically."

Shocked silence descended on the room and Carl could have sworn he heard William's voice make a comment about stupid heroics; showdown in an ICU waiting room, there really was nothing worse. His parents seemed thunderstruck and Victoria seemed caught by surprise for a few seconds as well, until something seemed to fall into place for her and she gave a little laugh. "Well, congratulations!" he said cheerfully and fell, grinning, around his neck.

He hugged her back and heard her whisper in his ear, "So what you said in November about my wedding..."

"Dear sis, do you really want to know?" he murmured back, too quiet for it to carry. Her only answer was to tighten her embrace a little before releasing him. She remained standing at his side though, a pronounced show of support towards their parents, who still stood rooted to the spot, seemingly speechless.

He looked at the two of them and he knew his expression was a little helpless. "He and I have been visiting whenever it was possible...one way or other. That's why he's been here so often...invited or not. And I've been to London quite a bit. And other places."

Silvia was the first to recover. "You're not saying this to pull our leg, are you?"

He shook his head. "I'm serious, mama. I love him and...I know he loves me too. And I can't imagine letting him go. I... He was here because I asked him to come, because I called and asked him and he didn't even have to know why, just cancelled everything in London and came to be with me. With us." A quick look at his sister showed him she was nodding. "He's been supportive and calm and he just let me talk, let both of us talk and... And I _can_ talk with him about everything. We have a lot of fun together when we meet. He's...everything I could want in a partner and I love him and he loves me. So...I. Well, I really hope you can accept this."

His mother smiled, put a hand to his arm. "You really like this young man, don't you?"

"Yes Mama," he smiled back, remembering how scary it had been, that first 'I love you'. "More than I thought possible."

"But," his father had finally recovered his voice and it was a very angry version of it, "that makes you a homosexual!"

Carl frowned, gently took his mother's hand off his arm and shrugged. "Yes? So? This country recognises same-sex marriages. Are you really such a hypocrite that you allow your subjects to find happiness with whichever gender they find it with but you won't allow it your own son? Pappa, even the church is okay with it!"

"This country can't be reigned by a gay King!"

Three pairs of eyes fixed him. "Carl, dear, _Victoria_ will be head of state. And even if that weren't the case, it would still be hypocrisy," Silvia said sharply.

The King cleared his throat. "Be that as it may, Carl Philip, this is not an option. Queen Elizabeth won't allow this either."

Carl closed his eyes. He was unbelievably tired, way too tired to argue for real. He also wondered how Wills was doing, far away in England, probably being lectured by his grandmother. "What Queen Elizabeth does and doesn't do is not for you to say, Pappa. And whatever it is she decides, William can simply not abide by it. He could give up his claim to the throne."

"He will never do that."

No, Wills wouldn't. Not of he had a choice, anyway, he had been bred and groomed for the position and he would not place the weight of the crown on his brother, as Victoria would never step down and leave him to deal with the responsibility of suddenly having to act as heir apparent.

"Let him decide that for himself, Papa," Victoria said quietly. "It's not for you to mete out our happiness."

It was their mother who, if not turned the tides, at least effectively ended the discussion for the day. "Well, dear, see it this way: Your grandfather would be proud! Our son, as the only one of our children so far, has managed to snatch himself a partner of royal standing. That has to count for something, right?"

At that, King Carl XVI Gustaf turned on his heel and walked out the waiting area.

~*~

Omitting details to Wills regarding the reaction of his parents had not felt particularly good to Carl, but his lover definitely had his own problems to deal with and considering the position he was in, they were bound to be harsher than his own. So he had decided to keep quiet and see how things worked out at home. As William's grandmother seemed to have, if not approved, then at least accepted matters as they were - albeit grudgingly - things were looking up. At least a little.

They all had a late start into the next day. All of them were still badly deprived of sleep and could use the extra rest it offered them. Vicky had eventually dragged him out of bed by threatening to tell Wills embarrassing childhood stories next time he was here, to have breakfast. It was only now that Carl realised his coming out had only given his sisters new leverage over him.

Surprisingly, Madde was there as well.

It was only the three of them, their parents were either up and done already or had opted to take breakfast in their rooms.

Exchanging a questioning look with his older sister, he sat down and reached for the coffee pot. Vicky only shrugged and Madde would probably have been more excited had she known. Madeleine was definitely hogging the butter again, and most certainly she did it intentionally, the evil midget.

"Did Mama and Papa catch up with you at the hospital?" she asked while slathering a slice of toast with honey. "I imagine they were shocked at the headlines."

"Yes they did. And they were, it went to far that I had to defend your virtue," Victoria answered absently. "They thought _you_ had entered into an affair with William."

Madde laughed and bit into her breakfast. "Who in their right mind would start anything with _Prince William_?" she asked and took a bite of her toast.

Carl blinked and smiled sweetly at her. "Well, I've been shagging him since Vicky's wedding. Pass the butter, please?"

Princess Madeleine of Sweden, Duchess of Hälsingland and Gästrikland, almost perished from choking on a mouthful of honeyed toast. Really, Carl thought, if the people of Sweden could sometimes see them in private they would lose all respect for them. Then he remembered Harry's apartment and all thoughts of inappropriateness fled his mind.

He swallowed his grin when his father entered the room and sat across from him, an unaccustomed seating arrangement as he usually sat at the head of the table. He spoke gravely. "I just had a call with Buckingham Palace. Queen Elizabeth has invited us to London to discuss...matters. I wish for you to arrive together with us but until then you are free to do as you please."

"I need to get back to school and put matters in order... Papa, about William, I-"

His father held up a hand and Carl fell silent. "Son, ultimately I want my children to be happy. After seeing your Emma come and go for ten years and almost treating her like a daughter already, your turning into a whole different direction requires some adjustment. I am, however, not about to withhold my affection nor my blessing from you and the person you chose to be with. I apologise if I hurt either of you, or you Victoria, with my behaviour yesterday."

The King of Sweden rose from his seat and left the room as quietly as he had entered it, leaving his children staring in shock.

~*~

The new security officer was driving him to distraction. Carl had no idea why Sven had been replaced, and frankly he didn't care what the Säpo was thinking, but if that woman kept going on like this he was going to have to go back to losing security first thing in the morning. The woman definitely considered herself to be more important than she actually was; security was supposed to be all but invisible and only take action when their charge was in harm's way, not come up to them asking about this and that, using your rat's tail of a style each and every time.

Wills had come up to see him racing and that woman had almost caused a riot and exposed them to the public. Carl almost ripped her superiors a new one about the incident and they promised to replace her again at the soonest convenience, but no, his security detail would not return to what it had been. Not quite, anyway and Carl could just throw up his hands and stomp out of the office.

When Carl eventually did see Sven again it was on the flight from Stockholm to London, where the Swedish royal family would meet the British one officially (or semi-officially as the public was, of course, not to know the reason for the visit) to discuss the love life of their heirs. The whole concept of this seemed insane to Carl but he didn't get to have an opinion - after all, he was the one who had caused a succession crisis in Great Britain. At least that seemed to be how Prince Charles saw it.

Finding Sven in the seat next to him in the row in front of his parents was somewhat of a surprise. "Please tell me you're back to your job."

Sven smiled sympathetically. "Sorry, Sir. This trip is to establish official liaison with the Royalty Protection Department of the Metropolitan Police. For the most part. I also have some private matters to take care of in London."

"I thought you had established official liaison with RPD long ago already." Sven and William's security had always worked well together, as far as he could tell. More than that, those two men seemed to be in a more than strictly professional relationship.

"That liaison is as unofficial as your visits were, Sir. You'll be assigned with new security shortly, as far as I understood from the memo I received yesterday. You will, however, have to get used to the fact that we'll have a closer net around you from now on. Once your relationship with Prince William becomes public knowledge you won't be able to stroll through Stockholm without being recognised any longer." It was the most Carl had ever heard the man say and he was a little surprised to find a sharp mind behind all the muscle. Appearances could obviously be deceiving.

"I know." He looked out the window and knew that he couldn't wish for simpler times as that would mean not having Wills. Life was about to get a lot more complicated, though and he was not sure how happy he was about this.

Meeting William in an official capacity, and like this, was simply weird. Having to discuss if they would be together and how it was to be handled and what that might possibly mean for their countries, and for them personally, was even weirder. Stranger things had happened, though, and for some reason Carl was not in the least surprised when Harry, rumpled and dishevelled as if he'd just returned from a three day binge, interrupted them and demanded to speak to his brother.

Everything ended with him first showing William's apartment to his parents, and being thankful his lover had a neater streak than his brother. At least where his rooms were concerned. Carl would not permit himself to even remotely think of sex while in the presence of his parents.

William informed him of what had happened shortly after Carl had brought his parents downstairs again and been directed upstairs once more by the guards, who must have been extremely confused by their comings and goings. Sven wasn't among them, he noted absently, but the officer usually assigned to Wills was.

Eventually, he found the two brothers in the laundry closet once more. "Whatever has been going on here, we heard shouting and-" He broke off as Wills pulled him in and it took some shuffling around and sorting of limbs so all three of them would fit in with the door closed. Wills ended up leaning half against him and Carl couldn't help his arms closing automatically around his lover, despite Harry's eyes rolling. "Okay, now what?"

"There have been some indiscretions. With Harry," Wills added the last as an afterthought, probably thinking how indiscretions regarding the two of them would set about quite a scandal at the moment.

Carl blinked. "I'm...sorry to say this, but what else is new?"

Harry started to frown. "Now, see here you-"

"Harry's girlfriend turned up pregnant," Wills continued impassively and Carl sucked in a sharp breath. "The fact that she's Catholic doesn't help his case any, either."

"That...cannot be good."

"They're not making me King now!" Harry exclaimed triumphantly and Carl could almost feel Wills rolling his eyes at his brother.

"They also have to marry you off now and everyone will know what's cooking. Literally."

The brothers continued their exchange for a minute more until Carl cleared his throat. "Sorry to interrupt but what exactly are we doing here?"

"Hiding," they said in one voice and Carl nodded. Figured. The direct heir to the throne gay with another European prince, the second knocking up his Catholic girlfriend, which meant he had to marry her which meant he had managed to effectively exclude himself from the succession. Yes, Carl would be hiding too, if he was the oldest or if Sweden still had male preference primogeniture.

"At least until they come looking for us. Alexandra will be joining us later, but gran and dad want to have a talk again beforehand, when everyone had a chance to calm down some. We'll have to resume talking to your parents tomorrow." William seemed to have this all plotted out already, which was admirable; Carl knew he would still be somewhat shocked.

Inadvertently, Carl met Alexandra several hours later while they both waited for their respective partners. She had seemed scared at first, but pulled herself together quite well after it had only been the two of them in the morning room. It was something she would have to learn, and quickly, dealing with Harry's family and with the public. Carl had seen this once before, when Daniel had been presented to the public, but his brother-in-law had had ample warning, ample opportunity to watch and learn before being forced to swim the deep waters. Now Alex... Carl sincerely hoped she would take like a duck to water where all of this was concerned, else she would be running screaming before her child was born. Running screaming and probably doing so with a broken mind.

He said as much to Wills, and wasn't it a glorious feeling to be lying on a - admittedly not exactly comfortable - sofa, naked and without worry that someone would find them and riots would break loose in Clarence House. It had been decided to drop the pretence before the whole staff already and it would be pointless to ferry Prince Carl Philip back and forth, when he would be showing up in Clarence House again before long anyway.

"There won't be much choice for them but to marry," Wills nodded and they shifted a little in an attempt to get more comfortable without elbows ending up soft parts of anatomy. "I feel a little bad for her, considering she probably never thought something like this would happen. But looking that she's three months along already, she'll be sheltered before and after the wedding, she can learn what she needs to know then. Let's hope the press will be merciful."

Carl looked at him dubiously and Wills dragged him closer and kissed him deeply. "The press has abided by my grandmother asking them not to take pictures of her family in private moments any longer. For the most part, at least. So let's hope they'll express some compassion with a pregnant girl. Would you like to move this to the bed? I'm developing a crick in my neck here."

When Carl ran into his Säpo officer trailed by William's RPD man the next day, he couldn't help but stare in astonishment at the badly concealed - by make up no less - black eye the man was sporting. He waved Sven aside and spoke under his breath. "I really don't care what you do in your free time, and if drag or S&amp;M rolls your socks down, the more power to you. But you - and your RPD buddy, too - really need to find a better way to get rid of the evidence."

Flabbergasted might have been the right word to describe the guard's expression, so Carl just smirked, winked and went to find some breakfast, along with his lover. He really would need to explain the meaning of sleeping in to Wills.

~*~

As royal weddings went, the guest list of that of His Royal Highness Prince Henry Charles Albert David, still of Wales but soon of Sussex, to Miss Alexandra Hamilton, soon to be Her Royal Highness Princess Henry of Sussex, had undergone pruning. Most of the guests were related in direct line to the bride or the groom, and each of the principal noble houses of Europe had sent one representative, although for the most part younger siblings of the heirs to the respective thrones.

Looking around, Carl also spotted a few young people who looked rather lost and were probably friends of Alexandra's from the medical college, while most of Harry's friends had not been invited in the first place, except those who had a reputation of being able to behave themselves. All in all it was a small wedding, kept intentionally so due to the circumstances of the bride and to keep the stress level low.

He could see that Alex was still nervous and she had every right to be. The pregnancy was slowly beginning to show and she probably still had to deal with the side effects of the first few months. She also was marrying a notorious playboy and wasn't that the best premise for a marriage one could have?

His eyes were tracking William through the reception hall. While there was no problem with them being friends, they had agreed to mingle during the first few hours and spend the second part of the evening together. Carl was not convinced how inconspicuous that would look but whatever made Wills happy. His lover had enough duties to attend to as the best man of the groom, so maybe that wasn't the worst idea in the first place.

His eye caught on Andrea Casiraghi but he quickly looked away; while he and the Grimaldi heir were on good terms - and there even was a certain fondness between them - Harry's wedding was not quite the right place to rehash those particular memories. What annoyed him most was that the Hereditary Grand Duke of Luxembourg, Guillaume, had showed up in place of his father. Now, Carl had expected to see Prince Louis and Princess Tessy maybe, as they had been in a similar situation as Harry and Alex, but Guillaume had not been on his list. The fact that he had been looking at Wills all through the ceremony and toasts with those certain looks and that heated smile that even William had noticed and frowned in slight confusion, was not helping Carl diffuse his worries.

And now Guillaume was sidling up to William's side, saying something, smiling. He probably thought it was an enticing smile, too. Carl was about to step forward, growling, when something tugged on his sleeved. Looking around, he found Alex smiling at him nervously. "Would you dance with me, Carl Philip?"

He looked down at her, she was small even wearing heels, and threw one last look at his lover talking - he hated to see it - amiably with Guillaume before taking her by the hand and leading her to the space that had been cleared for dancing. "You do know that it's not customary for the bride to dance with someone unrelated to herself or the groom, don't you? And you can call me Carl. Or CP."

Formal dancing was something that had been drilled into him from childhood and he could do it with his eyes closed and in the middle of a heated argument. Having two sisters had contributed its own to to this ability. And Alex knew how to move, her job had required that, and she had taken to formal steps easily enough.

"CP, then. You're one of the few who doesn't seem to expect me to run home crying for my mommy next week. From all I've been hearing the last few weeks you'll be married to my new brother-in-law before long, so I thought I could as well take the chance of breaking etiquette. No one probably expects differently of me anyway," she said quietly.

Carl sighed. "Everyone who has any kind of say about it seems to expect us to marry. I don't know where they got the notion."

"They have to deal with the facts at hand. They are aware that they, and you, won't be able to hide your relationship forever and they would rather release the news in a controlled manner than have some tabloid make a scandal of it. Consequently that means once they have announced you two as a couple you cannot break up anymore." She was very earnest, very matter-of-fact and Carl suddenly found himself hoping - despite his surprise at what she was saying - that she would finish her studies. She would make someone a great doctor one day.

"What do you mean?"

She looked him in the eye before throwing a quick look towards where Harry was talking earnestly with his maternal uncle, Earl Spencer. "If you break up at any point, everyone will think you were made to separate, because you are both men. Gay rights activism will cause riots in the streets, here and everywhere else," she seemed amused at the image forming in her mind. "The internet would foam at the mouth. And you could assure everyone it wasn't that, it was simply that the two of you didn't work anymore, they would all assume you were saying that for the benefit of your families. People are strange that way, they believe what they want to believe. And you, as the first gay princes to out themselves, will be the idol of every single gay boy out there. If you can do it, he can do it."

"There is a gay prince in India." He licked his lips nervously and could feel cold sweat beading on his forehead. _Thank you so much for the pressure, Alex._

"India is far away," she stated and shrugged. "Don't worry. You're too settled already to break up, I can see it in how you treat each other."

"Why, thank you very much." He tried to regain some of his calm. "I'll remind you of it when I had my boyfriend snatched away by Prince Guillaume."

She followed his gaze towards where Wills was still talking with the Luxembourgian, although his gaze, too, was roaming as if searching for something. "You cannot be worried about _him_."

"Stranger things have happened in this relationship. Like the Queen of England actually acknowledging it."

A sympathetic smile was thrown his way. "Between you and me, you must probably look like a jackpot."

Softly patting her side, he couldn't help but smile back. "Tell you what, you manage to tame that wretch of a boy over there and the whole of England is going to adore you."

She seemed to consider this. "That sounds like a deal, CP. Now deliver me to my husband and go rescue your man from the evil clutches of the Luxembourgian contender."

Carl laughed and led her by the arm towards Harry, who smiled, kissed her and drew her into the discussion he was having with his uncle about visiting sometime soon, before taking off to Australia to search for long-lost skulls.

Finding Wills wasn't hard, it wouldn't have been even if Carl hadn't been following him with at least one eye all evening. His lover's eyes lit up when they fell on him and he quickly excused himself from Guillaume, who was still continuing to try to talk to him. He joined Carl and they toasted with their wine glasses as they had done over a year ago at Victoria's wedding.

"Getting friendly with the continentals again?" Carl asked sardonically but far enough under his breath not to be overheard by anyone.

But William just rolled his eyes. "He's been trying to tell me for the last half hour what he's been getting up to during his time in Sandhurst." When he felt Carl's eyes on him he just shook his head, "You really, _really_ don't want to know."

Grinning, Carl took pastries from the tray of a passing waiter and handed one to Wills. "You do know that I will be fucking you through your mattress tonight, right?"

William just smiled that little secret smile he sometimes had and bit into the poached salmon. "I was counting on it," he answered after swallowing.

It turned out their alone-time was delayed a lot more than either of them had anticipated. Staying at Clarence House, Carl was not really supposed to leave and that meant he would be the last of the guests, or at least be would be staying as long as William did. They had kept each other easy company, while also chatting left and right, until dinner was being served. The seating arrangement had to be changed at the last possible second to accommodate for an argument between the Prince of Wales and his brother Andrew, so Carl suddenly found himself sitting between Beatrice of York and her cousin Peter. He had to wonder if he was to succumb to the superior forces of the Windsors at the table and caught Alexandra's slightly uncomfortable gaze and smiled in response.

Most of William's family didn't even know about his role in the prince's life, Buckingham Palace had deemed it unwise to reveal two scandalous relationships to them at once. You never knew who got drunk and maudling one night and talked to someone in a pub who they definitely shouldn't talk to. It had happened before.

And it wasn't so bad. Dinner was slightly uncomfortable for all parties involved but when people started spreading out again the atmosphere turned slightly more relaxed. At least until Prince Guillaume of Luxembourg wandered by and nonchalantly took the seat recently vacated by Zara Phillips next to Wills. Carl caught William's gaze for a second and rolled his eyes at the little pained smile his lover gave him before turning to Guillaume and making polite small talk.

And the Hereditary Grand Duke talked and talked and talked. Carl stopped following what he was saying after only a few minutes - keeping half an ear open for keywords and half an eye on suspicious moves - and instead started on maintaining a low alcohol intoxication. He was not about to make a fool of himself at a friend's wedding but he didn't think he would survive an evening listening to Guillaume drone on without a slight buzz. And this being an English - and more pointedly Prince Harry's - wedding, liquor was in ready supply. He exchanged a few words with the Duchess of Cornwall at some point, who had joined him with her own gin and tonic, but that, too, was only smalltalk. As long as he and Wills weren't official there would be nothing _but_ polite small talk at such official functions.

The guests started to peter out at some point when it was already pitch black outside and Guillaume was still talking. Currently he was trying to discuss troop movements in Afghanistan (where the Luxembourgians had exactly nine men stationed...somewhere), while Wills had turned his attentions towards the Edradour single malt that was being served. Carl could see in his eyes that he was far from drunk but also was obvious he had found that frequency in his head that would tune Guillaume out completely. Now, if the man also would stop fumbling with his hands so close to William's clothing, face or hair, Carl would be even happier.

He was about to make a move when a very exhausted looking Alex sank down on the chair next to him. "I am so ready to call it a night."

"It's your wedding. You only get one. Enjoy it," he advised with a sympathetic smile. She was an only child, no brothers or sisters to stand at her back, so it seemed he had slipped right into that role. Not a new part for him, he remembered a year ago - after delivering Wills back safe and sound to his handlers, and had it really only been a year when it seemed like half a lifetime already? - he had gone off to massage Vicky's feet and his sister had not been four months pregnant already.

It suddenly occurred to him that his sister's child - and it annoyed him to no end that he still didn't know if it was going to be a boy or a girl - would be less than half a year older than Harry's kid. Strange prospect.

Alex shot him a measuring look. "You're drunk, aren't you?"

"Not yet," he shook his head. "Working on it, though."

She just rolled her eyes and shook her right. "Fine," she said under her breath, "but you owe me one."

He gave her a confused stare, but she had already leaned over the table. "Hi, I'm sorry, you're Prince Guillaume, right?" she asked sweetly and smiled brightly at the man only a few years older than her, who nodded. "I don't think we've talked so far but I could be mistaken. I have met so many people today... As William has agreed to have the cooks make me a cinnamon roll and Prince Carl Philip here promised to bring me sparkling mineral water, would you be so kind to fetch me my husband? He's in the men's room and I can't quite go there." She kept smiling, petted her belly and Guillaume couldn't get up fast enough and almost stumbled into a waiter carrying a tablet.

Alex nodded with satisfaction and looked at them. "What are you staring at? Now go, before I change my mind and make you entertain me for the rest of the night."

Carl looked at Wills, shrugged and - separately - they made their way towards the large entrance doors.

Sex in light of Alexandra's revelations regarding the status of their relationship was no different than it had been before. In fact, maybe it was even more intense, but Carl could be mistaking the combined effects of alcohol and their mutual annoyance with Guillaume for something else entirely.

His fingers wet with lube, Carl kissed and licked William's body upward until they were lying side by side again, looking at each other. "Hi," he smiled and Wills reached over to move a strand of hair out of his eyes.

"Hi back. You waiting for an invitation?"

Carl shook his head. What had Alex said, they were too settled already to break up? "When did I last tell you that I love you?"

The puzzled look Wills threw him was filled with amusement rather than real confusion. "Well, that might have been when he had that...little get together in the laundry closet between ceremony and reception today." He leaned forward and kissed Carl softly. "Do you plan to make this into a tradition, us having sex during other people's weddings?"

"Mh, might be a plan," he answered and reached down, making Wills draw a sharp and unexpected breath. "I love you. You are not who I expected coming my way, but I glad you did."

He wouldn't let his lover answer but instead elected to kiss him thoroughly.

They moved together easily, finding their very own rhythm almost instantly and it quickly wiped away thoughts of obligation, of inevitability...and of other men making moves on what was theirs.

~*~

Scotland was not at all like Sweden. And yet there was a certain similarity to it, and Carl reflected if it maybe was the appearance of being untouched. And while Scotland was a lot of things, 'untouched' certainly wasn't one of them.

It was still a miracle to him how they had managed to be excused for four consecutive weeks from their respective courts, but both of them had learned to count their blessings. A year later Carl would realize that this journey they had been conducting had been a form of transition from one life to the next, but he wasn't quite that far yet. He just knew Wills had asked him if he wanted to do something, anything, for a while as long as it took them away from renovations and from their families and left them in the country.

Reluctantly, Carl had ended his personal racing season early - the things you didn't do for love and even so, he would at least do the last race of the seaon - and they had hashed out a plan. Just the two of them for four weeks, riding through Scotland. Well, the two of them and two security guards, but that William completely disregarded those two showed itself every night. Neither of them was exactly quiet during sex and the fact that Wills had absolutely no qualms about leaving the tent every morning was enough proof of that. Sometimes, ignorance was pure bliss. Carl simply thought those two had to cut their losses and if the sounds he was hearing sometimes when Wills was fast asleep already were any indication, their guards had taken up with one another. Idly, he sometimes wondered how long that had been going on. Not that it was any of his business, he simply liked to keep track of what was going on around him.

One evening, when he was settling down the horses and Wills was pitching the tent (right where the security ops were dismounting) he paused long enough for his lover to finish his chores and come to look over his shoulder. A kiss landed on the curve of his neck and Wills embraced him from behind. "My kingdom for your thoughts."

Carl slightly turned his head around and smiled. "You don't yet have a kingdom to give me, love. Yet I will let you in on my thoughts. See I was storing away the tack." He leaned back in his lover's arms. "And I was thinking what _else_ we could do with tack. You know. Leather straps..."

If Carl hadn't known Wills as well as he did he would never have noticed the pause, the fraction of a second when he stilled. "You're pretty kinky, you know that?"

"Oh, you are one to tell me something about being kinky, or do I really have to remind you of the oranges?" The two security men were getting to hear more than they probably cared to but there was no helping it. He could feel the heat in William's face that was still pressed to his. "What's wrong?" he finally asked very, very quietly. "You've not been thrilled by ideas before but-"

"I'm not really-" Wills exhaled and started again. "BDSM is not really my thing, not with leather and not with lace."

Lace? Now that was... But Carl banished that thought and turned around fully in the loose embrace and wound his arms around his lover's neck to look him into the eye. "Trust issues?"

Wills shook his head, leaned down and kissed him long and reassuringly. "Conditioning. When you're as high up as me in the British succession and someone tried to kidnap your aunt, you don't react well to being tied up, on principle." He kissed Carl once more and released him to get dinner ready.

Carl considered this. "What about blindfolds?"

Sex between them was fairly vanilla - with the occasional exception to the rule - and it wasn't that Carl minded that at all. As long as they both had fun there was no reason to change it and with the occasional kink thrown in for variety it was not bound to get boring anytime soon. But they both had to be into it and he would never make Wills do something in bed he didn't want to. Mostly because he expected the same respect to be paid to him as well.

Wills threw him a look and his lips quirked into a smile. "Now that's a whole different can of worms you're opening there."

William had always been an appreciative and responsive lover who liked to be caressed, kissed, licked...anything tactile, really. Taking away his sight exponentiated this appreciation several times and Carl spared half a sympathetic thought for the two security officers camped next to them and hoped they were quite busy in their own right. He looked down at Wills in the twilight of the tent, writhing beneath his touch and making noises Carl had never, ever heard coming from him and they had done some quite...interesting things in the past few months.

He wondered how it was to be robbed of sight, dependent on touch, smell, sound and shuddered in delight. Yeah, they would have to try this. Later. This was about his lover.

He dragged the fingernails of one hand lightly over William's skin, just enough to let him feel it. Carl could see his lover's pulse beating away in his throat, steady but fast beneath the skin. No, William had no issues with trust. Or maybe he had, but they were not directed at him, because no one would be able to let go like this if there was no trust. At least that's what Carl wished to believe.

Fumbling for the bottle of lube he bent down low over Wills, spoke close to his lips. "You can take this thing off any time, you know?"

"I know. I don't want to." And then Wills was closing the ever so small distance between their lips and Carl closed his own eyes, directed his hands by feel and experience on and in his lover's body, swallowed the small, pleasurable noises Wills was making. He loved this man. So very much. There was no force in the world great enough to tear them apart, and for a long time, that was the one and only thought and conviction filling his entire being.

Sometimes, it was like he and Wills were living on two different planets. One reason for this certainly was that they had grown up with a different awareness of who they were in the greater scheme of things. Another reason was their difference in status and everything that went with it. Yet another still was their personal experiences with life in general.

What ended in them not talking for three days was therefore more of an effort of strength on William's part than a true fight for Carl. Prince Charles was a surprisingly delicate subject for Wills and Carl had to wonder if that was because of the current situation involving both brothers or if this was the status quo. The latter would be unexpected, as the media portrayal was was completely different one - granted, Carl knew he shouldn't rely too much on the tabloids - and the few instances when he had met father and sons it had seemed typically British, a little chilly but not overly hostile.

As Wills ranted on, Carl sat his horse in patience and waited. Not once in the year they had been friends and lovers had Carl figured Wills might have a father complex. This rather one-sided discussion they were having right now seemed to hint at something different though, and if he was any judge, his lover should resolve these issues and soon. He was just so unreasonable about it and didn't he see that?

Sure, family was important - and considering the spotlight that was turned on them it was probably even more important for them - and Carl had been the one to say Wills should make up with his father but this...

"And now here you are telling me- Why me, why am I supposed to eat humble pie now to cater to what ultimately amounts to his failings?" Carl had never _said_ anything to that effect, but Wills had effectively talked himself into a rage. He sighed inwardly.

"Wills!"

"No!"

Clearly, it was no use. Wills didn't understand that the suggestion to make up did not entail making a fool of himself, or grovelling before his father, who really had no right to ask for it. As far as respect went... Carl might be a prince himself but he would never have qualms to pay utmost respect to those who deserved it and he would have willingly gone to his knees before the Queen, had she asked for it, but Prince Charles was another matter. A man wishing to be reincarnated as his mistress'... No.

Two men could speak eye to eye, even if they were father and son, and this was something he would have to make Wills do and if it took drastic measures. He shook his head. "Fine, be that way. Tell me when you're done being petulant."

He set his horse moving again, trusting that Wills would catch up. There was not a whole lot he could do. Carl wasn't mad with Wills, wasn't angry, but if he gave in now they would fall into an unhealthy pattern and he wasn't about to let that happen.

At no point was their relationship in question - and maybe that was the most remarkable thing about this whole experience. They both seemed to know that as they rode next to one another, albeit silent, never leaving. It was only at night when he spoke to William's sleeping form, stroking through his hair, just watching him in the dim light of moon and stars falling through the canvas. "You _know_ I'm not doing this to hurt you. I'm also not doing this just to be contrary. I want to help you, my love, you have to see this."

Ultimately it was not much use because it was a fact that they were both stubborn.

Wills had said to him once he could not forever live his life through the lens of his camera. At times like this, though, it seemed the position of the photographer awarded Carl with a unique ability of observation. It was as if the finder made him take a step out of any given situation; it put things into a different perspective. Reality never escaped him, it was more like a double vision.

He confirmed this for himself late that night, William peacefully asleep at his side after another day of silence, when he clicked through the pictures he had taken during the past few days. There were shots of Wills with an empty expression, scowling at him, then with a ever so slight smile, and one - taken when his lover had not paid attention - of an unbearable sadness that Carl doubted had anything to do with their present situation. He had almost reached out then, given in...when he knew it would not be good for either of them, or their relationship at large.

And then there was that one picture with Wills wearing the most serene and content expression Carl had ever seen on him, it had almost stopped his breath. Suddenly, in that moment and for once not paying attention to their surroundings at all, Carl had known it was all worth it; the sacrifices to be made, the fights to be had. It had made him happy and they both had been happy to simply be together - albeit not talking.

Wills would come to understand. Sometimes he needed a little nudge, sometimes he was a bit dense but eventually, they were headed in the right direction. Or something. If the man didn't take his camera away again.

Carl never found out what their security detail thought about the abrupt silent treatment, if they gave it any thought at all. Probably not, because that wasn't their job. They probably weren't paid well enough to give the antics of their charges much thought.

When Wills thought of a way to end their...disagreement without either of them having to give in in so many words Carl was mostly amused. William certainly had a way with words but there were better things to be done with their mouths this particular night, at least until they were spent and finally lying in each other's arms again. It was slightly scary that this short time of not-quite-separation had left him actually missing Wills terribly. Carl knew, he was well and truly caught.

When Wills had long fallen asleep on his shoulder already, he was still drawing little patterns on his skin as they were lying comfortably within their sleeping bags. He didn't think much sleep would find him, partly because of the neighbouring tent not being what you would call quiet - and Carl dimly wondered if maybe those two had condoms to share - and partly because there was a lot to think about.

As far as he knew, there so far were no plans to make them official, although that might have changed during the holiday. However, even if there weren't yet, he would need to make the suggestion to speed it up a little. He wasn't willing to go weeks between visits anymore, or have them only last two, three days at the most. Maybe it was unreasonable to make such - albeit unspoken - demands, on the other hand, Daniel had lived in one part of the palace at a certain point and he and Vicky had always been able to see one another.

While that was a bit much to ask, he wished he could spend some more time with Wills, officially. If they were out to the public that would be...maybe not more manageable, but at least no one would raise questions as to his reason for being in London or Wills being in Sweden. And someone who had no business knowing would figure it out sooner or later, that was almost guaranteed.

He drew Wills a little closer still and kissed the man's pulse point. Such a reassuring, steady heartbeat. Wills murmured something in his sleep, unintelligible as always and shifted to catch Carl's legs between his. He smiled; maybe he wasn't the only one reluctant to let go.

~*~

  
Carl hated the limelight.

He always had and always would and had always been thankful that the succession was governed by age now, rather than gender. Vicky would make a wonderful Queen.

So when Wills told him about the announcement, Carl developed a serious case of nerves. He tried to cover it up by advising Wills to finally get the talk with his father over with. Maybe he shouldn't have done that, because an hour later - when Madde was patting his back encouragingly after he had lamented his woes - the phone rang again and a very upset William was on the other end.

"Tell me something good. Or funny. Or whatever," Wills said and the inflection in his voice alone told him that the talk with Charles had not gone well.

Carl looked around helplessly and groped at the first thing that shot through his mind when he turned towards his sister. "Did I ever tell you what Madde gave me for my eighth birthday?"

She slapped him on the arm, hard, and threw him a look that should have turned him into a salt pillar. Or a frog. But he just shrugged and made a face after which she left, not before throwing her hands up and mumbling something derogative about his gender.

It took him long minutes to calm Wills down and to coax from him the details of what had taken place between him and Charles, and in the end he wished he could be there. He also wished he could give the Prince of Wales a rather considerable piece of his mind, but that wasn't going to happen.

"I wish you were here. I miss you."

"I miss you too. Hey, now we know why they gave us those four weeks off, huh?" Anything to lift William's spirits.

"Yeah, because after this goes down, we won't have another unobserved moment. Ever."

He sighed. There was a lot yet to figure out as they went along.

"Do you want to stay home when they announce it or do you want to come here?" There was a hopeful note in William's voice and Carl knew exactly what he meant.

He looked around his living room and knew there was something, some_one_, missing who belonged there. "We're in this together, of course I'm coming over."

"You, me and all of Europe," Wills said with resignation. "Thanks Carl. I need to go, Harry and Alex invited me for tea."

~*~

"Is it bad?" Carl asked, looking up when Wills entered his apartment again from taking a careful look outside from the other side of the building.

He made a face. "I didn't think there were so many reporters in the whole Kingdom. Have you talked to your sister?"

"Madde says it's pretty bad back home as well, although she's only seen it in passing. Seems she was smart enough to flee to friends until the big show is over," he replied. He also half expected a call from Andrea Casiraghi to dole out some good-natured ribbing - although how that man would have gotten hold of his number was beyond him. The Grimaldis tended to have their own ways and means, though.

"Smart girl indeed," Wills said with a sigh when he sat down and wound one arm around Carl's shoulders and kissed him on the temple. "You holding up okay?"

He threw him a look. "I'm used to having the press around, you know?"

"Yes, but normally it's not you in their focus. Just pretend this is one of your races, that's the attitude we need now." Their eyes met. "I'm serious, you're dealing with everyone and everything super efficiently when you're near the track. But no worries, you've got me, I'm a pro at this." Wills cracked his knuckles and Carl couldn't help but snort.

"Oh yeah? Come here, you pro, and show me what you've got," he grinned and momentarily forgot about the mob outside, judging them for what they were and who they had fallen in love with.

Carl would have happily forgotten them for good if there had not been a knock at the door. He leaned his forehead against William's and whispered, "Don't answer."

But the other man just smiled and pressed one last quick kiss to his cheek. "We're in this for good, love. Better get things over with quickly and maybe one day we'll have some peace and quiet again."

That night they had some peace and quiet, because they were largely left alone. The RPD had increased its presence within Clarence House and they could be heard on their irregular rounds, but no one was seeking them out. Wills had speculated that some of the reporters certainly were camped in the front yard, but Carl didn't much care. Their lovemaking was almost shockingly slow and gentle after the frantic rush throughout the day.

All barriers were down between them and there was hardly any resistance from William's body and words were superfluous.

~*~

The idea of a first public appearance during a film festival where a film about a gay footie player would be debuting was...not exactly Carl's concept of ideal, but he had to admire the PR staff at Clarence House for their foresight. At least the concentration of homophobic assholes should be at a minimum and their exposure to the press would be limited to in between films.

Which didn't mean he liked it.

Wills was right, pretty much the only time he didn't mind the public was when he was racing, but when on the track, his mind was too preoccupied with other matters - his team, safety, the other drivers - that he didn't have time to pay attention to who was there only to get a glimpse of him. At all other times, the public and the press could go interview themselves for all he cared, thank you very much. Even his design pieces he only presented reluctantly; they mostly spoke for themselves, what was he to say about it? Who cared if he stated, "Yes, this is a rendition of Tre Kronor in cast iron with brass detail to act as a firescreen," when everyone could _see_ what it was and what it was supposed to be?

It didn't help that some of the Clarence House and Kensington Palace staff seemed to have expressed a certain displeasure regarding his wardrobe. He didn't get it. They were _clothes_; he would have understood if this was about jewellery, but this obsession with clothes had never made sense to him. When he had said as much to Madde on the phone it had taken a few minutes for her to stop giggling. Consequently, she had promised, still out of breath and not sounding too serious, to send something for him that the staff in Britain would be happier with.

Sometimes he wondered how Wills did it, who cleaned up wonderfully and looked as if he had never worn anything else, when Carl knew the ratty jeans and sweat pants he wore in his leisure time from various stays at Clarence House and in Sweden. But maybe that was what attending Eton did to you.

He was pulled out of his reverie on the way to the Raindance film festival by Wills taking his hand and kissing his palm. When he turned his head he was smiling at him, a little wistfully. "Thank you for doing this for me."

He raised one corner of his mouth in mock appreciation. "Not much of a choice if I want to keep you, is there?"

"True. Doesn't mean I'm taking it for granted, I'm sure more than one relationship was broken up over...stuff like this. Even if it should be about us, I'm not sure how much of it really is." Wills shrugged in that way that told Carl more than words could have. He would be willing to let Carl off the hook, end this even after coming this far just to draw away the public eye. What he didn't keep in mind was that the public eye was resting on both of them, that William simply had been the one exposing himself more and being exposed more by the simple fact of who he was.

But there was no way for Carl to knock some sense into the man at his side right now, so he decided to turn it into a joke, using William's own words. "By 'us', you meant you, me and the whole of Europe, didn't you?"

Wills laughed and squeezed his hand. The car came to a halt and it was time for them to get out. "Remember, think of race tracks."

"Or about what I'll be doing to you when we come back home." He opened the door and just saw the wicked smile Wills flashed him along with the first flash of a camera going off.

~*~

Ironically, after being outed to the public there often were times when they were seeing even less of one another than they had towards the spring of that year and it was unnerving.

Actually, it pissed Carl off to a certain extent.

He didn't mind being home in Sweden, he didn't even mind babysitting his niece when her parents were busy being royals. Seeing Wills only for official appointments arranged for by Clarence House had not been his idea of things when he thought coming out to the public was a good idea, though.

But that's what you got when you took up with the number two to the British throne. The man you loved was smothered in official appointments, in charity and military manoeuvres and you could only participate at a fraction of all of them. At least Carl wasn't some damsel sitting at home with nothing to do, even if he sometimes felt like it when Vicky pushed a baby into his arms and was off somewhere the next minute. In former times people had wetnurses, it seemed now the usefulness of younger siblings had been discovered.

It wasn't about the sex. Although he wouldn't lie, as sex certainly was part of it, but he was missing the company, the simple physical closeness that was so reassuring. The realization that sooner or later the two of them would have to make up their mind came to him when he was feeding the little girl in his care. For a time it was no problem going back and forth, spending weeks in one place and then several more at the other but they would not be able to do that forever. Mostly because he, at least, didn't _want_ to do it forever, either.

"The reassuring thing about you and me is that we can give back the children they entrust us with at the end of the day," Carl said into the phone as he stretched out on his sofa that evening. His arms hurt from carrying around a baby girl who wouldn't stop crying.

"And that none of us will be pregnancy-cranky," Wills agreed, sounding tired.

"Alex?"

"She's kindness personified, but I'm surprised she hasn't murdered Harry, yet. Do you know what you'll be doing for Christmas?" It was early December, they had seen nothing of one another for almost two weeks and Carl was ready to let obligations be obligations and have security catch up with him later once more.

"You'll be in Windsor?" he asked, remembering last year.

Wills made an affirmative sound. "That's the plan. Although it depends a little on Alex, she'd like to have the baby in London where she knows the facilities and where her midwife is. And none of us is quite willing to leave her here alone, let alone with a newborn so... I'm not sure. But if the insanity here continues, I wouldn't say no to making off to Sweden, either."

They ended up spending Christmas in Windsor, as Vicky and Daniel had spontaneously decided to vacation in the Öland residence and Madde and the new boyfriend - and thank the Heavens for him - would be in New York City. Alexandra had her baby boy three days into the new year and back in London.

Carl was surprised that things worked out more smoothly from there. They got to spend more time together; William's schedule was still full but they did manage, with some adjustments on both sides, to wrap their relationship around it. What still took some getting used to was the increased security on his person; Carl didn't like that, but did see the necessity of it at least. Even Sven, who was in Britain an increasingly amount of time these days, commented on his good behaviour.

Carl didn't think they were in danger. As the press calmed down and focused on more interesting topics - like the future Crown Princess of Sweden sitting all by herself for the first time - the amount of comments from other sides subsided as well. Wills reflected at some point that they were lucky to be European and the public used to royal eccentricities.

It was a quiet year, at least until the Lube Wave, as they came to call it. Carl didn't think a simple fall off a polo pony would have any consequences at all, especially as a bruised royal backside and pride were the only injuries sustained, until Clarence House and Drottningholm Palace were smothered in lube. His sisters alone sent what they considered a year's supply, simply because they were so amused by the headlines.

A wooden box sat on William's bed as they entered the room but Carl couldn't be bothered to check. He was soaked from a sudden downpour and just wanted to exchange his slacks for a pair of jeans; then maybe some food, a beer, a film or a bit of making out on the couch... Opening the dresser that contained most of his casual clothes he had in Britain, he grabbed a random pair of jeans, shorts and a sweater before chugging his suit.

When William's voice sounded he was just climbing into the new trousers. "Love, why is Andrea Casiraghi sending us lube?"

Carl stilled for a second, balancing on one leg and hoped his slight panic didn't colour his voice. "Half of Europe is sending us lube, haven't you seen the guards on day-duty go home with shopping bags full of it? I guess they thought private communication between royalty wasn't to be kept in the post room longer than necessary."

"But a whole litre? This is an expensive brand!"

Carl's mouth switched, a smile breaking through. "Maybe he wanted to be generous?"

A sound of wood sliding on wood sounded and Wills stepped into his line of sight just as he buttoned his pants. Eyebrows raised, he waved a piece of paper. "Explain this one?"

Carl snatched the little card that read

_I really taught you better, didn't I? ♥_

_Andrea_

_PS: I sincerely hope you're happy._

"Well," he blinked. How did he explain a week in Monaco's early summer? "Andrea might have made the F1 weekend worth my while three years ago."

William's eyes glazed over for a second and Carl could almost see the wheels turning in his head, making calculations. "I see," he finally said, then frowned. "Doesn't he have-"

A girlfriend. Yep. "They were kind of on a break back then."

"And you were..."

Carl looked his man into the eye. "Sexual identity challenged. And on the rebound."

"And Andrea? You like him?" Why was he not surprised Wills wanted to know? He would want to know as well, especially since Andrea was....well, Andrea. Italian-French ancestry; kind, good looking, open for new things, entertaining (if he wanted to be).

Sighing, Carl stepped up to Wills and pulled him down in a kiss, William's hands automatically going to his sides, settling just above the waistband of his jeans. "He's a nice guy. It was one weekend neither of us would repeat at this point. You don't seriously think he would send us a huge bottle of lube if he had any designs on my ass, do you?"

"Well, speaking in terms of sponsorship deals, your arse is your second most valuable asset," Wills grinned and sank his teeth first into Carl's lips, then nipped down his jaw and throat. If he was leaving love bites, Carl thought dimly as he exposed his throat further, he would have to borrow camouflage from those guards.

~*~

It was probably just as well the press didn't know everything that was going on behind palace walls. That was probably true for all monarchies, Carl reflected as he looked at their merry little round; Wills next to him, Vicky and Daniel across from them, Madde - very pregnant - and her husband to their right, Alex to their left and Harry probably still raiding the kitchen (an airsick helicopter pilot was quite the sight). People, at least in Europe, didn't want their royals to be normal people with normal problems, with woes and joys and every day occurrences; they wanted drama and feelings of epic proportion, gypsy curses and miracles.

He was very pointedly not looking at the Grimaldis.

It was probably just as well the press didn't know everything that was going on behind palace walls, because this night in Haga Palace, they would have certainly gotten an eyeful. Family get-togethers like this one were too rare, which was why Vicky and Wills had made the executive decision to clear everyone's schedule and gather them at Haga for wine, women and song - or something along those lines at least.

Harry stumbled back into the room in the best imitation of the day he had announced that his current girlfriend was pregnant; slacks smeared with mustard, shirt tails hanging out of the waistband askew. The one difference was that this time, he also was completely rat-arsed.

"Wow," he said while everyone was staring at him. "You Swedes really-" He had to clear his throat. "You Swedes really have the right of it. You even make liquor from _wood_. Oh hi, Carl."

The beatific smile thrown his way, so full of ultimate bliss, should have worried Carl the second he saw it, but his brain was still too much in shock. He hadn't seen Harry like this since... He couldn't remember if he had _ever_ seen Harry quite this drunk outside a tabloid and even then he thought they certainly must be exaggerating it, because... Carl was Swedish, he knew a few things about drinking and about being drunk and he didn't think _he_ had ever been as hammered as Harry sometimes seemed to be.

He must have gotten into the brännvin stored in the kitchen.

The thought was still dimly echoing in his mind when Harry took two quick - surprisingly quick considering he was weaving like a grass stalk in a breeze - steps towards him, took Carl's face between his hands and pressed their mouths together.

Carl was too shocked to even blink, he gave William's brother a wide-eyed stare. For a moment he thought he had gone blind, until Harry finally released him - after what could not have been more than a few seconds - and he realized what had momentarily blinded him had been the flash of a camera. Mechanically, he turned around and stared, probably with the same wide-eyed expression, at Alex, who - with an amazingly satisfied expression on her face - put away a mobile phone.

"Leverage," she smiled apologetically before pushing herself up. "To show him next time he tells me he doesn't drink. Harry!"

"Yes, hon?"

"Bed. Now."

Carl followed the exchange still dazed and confused, only heard Vicky mumble something about "Drunk as a skunk", and Madde's amused assent, before both girls started giggling.

Someone tugged at his sleeve and he turned around, looking at William's concerned face. "You okay?"

Nodding once, he got up and stepped towards the cabinet on the opposite wall. "Carl?" Wills asked, worry now clearly evident.

"Akvavit. I really need a drink. And if Harry gets the brännvin, I'll get the line akvavit. Oh _Lord_, he slipped me tongue." He tossed back the first shot and didn't care anymore if everyone in the room was trying not to laugh on his expense.

~*~

It was not entirely clear to Carl how he had progressed from Wills telling him, "Gran, dad and me are meeting with the Belgians next week" to Camilla announcing to him in no unclear terms yesterday that he was expected to participate in the ladies' programme. His presence made absolutely no sense, because he was neither married to Wills, no were they engaged to be married; officially speaking, he had no status in the British monarchy, he was tolerated, their relationship sanctioned but nothing more. That was actually one of the perks of not being officially involved, not having to suffer the partner programme. And yet...

"Everyone knows that and yet it still would look as if we're hiding you." Camilla patted his arm in a motherly way when they stood in front of van Gogh's _Sunflowers_ in the National Gallery. Princess Mathilde hadn't shown up, pleading a sick child at home, yet they still had to pull through with the planned events. "It won't always be like this. And there are bright sides to these things."

"Yeah? Such as?" He should have gone home for the Götheborg race two days early. He could have spent the time with his niece and his nephew, drunk cocoa with his sisters, maybe put a picture up on another wall in Haga.

"There is high tea," Philip interjected and gave the masterpiece only a dismissive frown.

"Oh yes," Carl pronounced less than enthusiastically. Dry biscuits and strong English tea with lemon for the three of them and whatever else was happening in the Queen's official chambers. "Great."

They had lunch a little late, but at least it was with everyone. Carl had met Prince Phillipe when his father had just taken the throne and they did get along pretty well. Or they had back then, right now things were a little strained with unequal numbers and the man's wife absent.

"Why it takes three generations of Windsors to meet a single Belgian heir apparent really would interest me," Carl murmured to Wills afterwards, when they had a few minutes to themselves.

"I'll be King one day, it's important I know the people who I'll be dealing with. And if gran gets me to sit in but not dad, it looks like she's favouring me to succeed her." Wills pecked him on the cheek before taking his leave, smiling encouragingly.

High Tea, it turned out, was not about biscuits and Earl Grey.

Philip sat back in an arm chair, Camilla in a recliner and Carl was seated on the sofa, blinking in confusion, when they broke out the alcohol.

"I thought you said _high tea_?" he questioned as one of the kitchen staff members set a bottle of vodka and a frosted shot glass in front of him.

Camilla shrugged into her gin and tonic and Philip finished his first sip from a bottle of beer. Imported?

"Time honoured tradition sees the partners of the reigning family members of the Windsors taking a drink for high tea when state's guests are present. Many of the ladies and gentlemen are a little disappointed when they come here for the first time, others...have arranged themselves with us." He lifted his bottle. "Like Mrs Merkel's husband. Don't ask me how he does it but he always manages to smuggle deutsches Bier with him."

Carl's lips quirked. "Time honoured by whom?"

"I'd like to say it was me who established it but for all I know that was the Smiling Duchess herself. Man, that woman could drink..." Philip's look turned inward for a moment. "Diana wasn't very good at holding her liquor, but she could always be enticed with a glass of champagne. Now, Cammie here, she likes her gin and tonic. Heavy on the gin, eh my dear?" He toasted her but his only answer was a shake of head and a little amused smile.

Carl contemplated both of them for a moment, then shrugged and tossed back his first shot. If it was a time honoured tradition, who was he to disagree?

~*~

Royal weddings, in Carl's experience, always required a lot of preparation. At least a year. Unless the bride was pregnant, then less than a month of preparation was possible but this usually did not happen with heirs to thrones.

Until well into the last century, girls who married received a dowry to be able to start their own household. In former times, when a girl of noble standing was married off to a lord, prince or king, she was outfitted with a dowry that might include values such as jewellery, estates or the claim to another throne.

Carl wasn't entirely sure what custom demanded in their situation, because neither brideprice nor dower seemed exactly fit for them. But right now he neither felt like the bride, nor the groom but rather haggled over like the dairy cow in the dowry of one of the not-noble girls who had no jewellery, estate to a claim to another throne to offer.

Endless meetings had been scheduled between representatives of the British and the Swedish court, between Queen Elizabeth II and King Carl XVI Gustaf where Carl and Wills had to be present as well. The last time a similar situation had happened - a foreign prince marrying an heir to the British throne - was when Price Philippos of Greece and Denmark had married Princess Elizabeth of York. But those had been different times and what had worked then could not be repeated in the same fashion in the present.

Contrary to what his mother had anticipated, Carl got to keep his Swedish titles, both of them, as well as his holdings, but he would lose his spot in the line of succession. And even if he had not by decree, he would have chosen to have things that way. Two kingdoms in one marriage simply could not work.

As Swedish territory could not be allowed to fall to the British Crown, and as things like land gains were not so easy in a constitutional monarchy with defined borders to most countries anymore, Carl would have to add the proclamation to his will, stating for Värmland to remain Swedish territory upon his death, instead of merging with the British crown.

He was 35 years old and they were talking about his death.

Something was definitely not right about this whole thing.

In the same breath - and rather unfittingly, he thought - his racing career was discussed and this was the one thing about which he put his foot down. Towards the Queen of England. Which was a scary thing to do, but as long as Wills didn't ask him - and he never would - Carl would not stop racing unless it was his own choice. Or possibly a mutual decision at some point in the future, that point was not now though.

He also never thought the question of where they would live would be such an issue. As Wills was a working royal and heir to the crown, he was to have an apartment in one of the royal palaces; as he was now starting his own family (after a fashion), he was to establish his own household not only nominally by having his own office and spokesperson, but also by a spatial separation from the place where his father had his. Which meant, in plain text, they were to move out of Clarence House. No one would kick them out, of course, but they were discussing apartments in Kensington Palace and St. James Palace.

Wills had lived in Kensington Palace before and he already used one of the apartments there unofficially, but he also had lived in York House with his father before and both places might not be ideal for exactly that reason. The decision was postponed for another few months, until wedding preparations had been finalised.

As much as Clarence House had exposed the two of them to the public, Carl had still not fully understood the amount of press that he would be faced with from now on. He hated standing in the spotlight, and Wills knew that. Basically everyone who had spent more than a few days around him knew that. And yet there was nothing anyone could do about it, least of all Wills and himself.

Prince Philip had always managed to largely stay in the background officially, yet he did plenty behind the scenes and was conducting plenty of duties that did take him into the public, if not always into the press (or if so, only marginally). Carl had to ponder the implications of all of this for a long while; although he could not effectively back out of the relationship or the engagement now - and he didn't want to either, which was probably more critical - this was resulting in exactly the opposite of his...preferences.

"Carl?" Vicky asked carefully from where she leaned in the open door. "You okay?"

He smiled at her but wasn't sure it didn't look cornered. Something was definitely wrong; he was sitting in his sister's home in Stockholm, trying to write his wedding vows...and was considering how to evade future major engagements with the public. "This is not exactly going smoothly," he answered evasively.

Coming over and sitting next to him, like she'd always done, was so familiar it almost gave him pangs of nostalgia. He would not leave his life behind; he would still have a Swedish passport (and a British one), he would still come home to race, he would not have to deal with an English duchy for now (as Wills had refused his grandmother's offer), he would always have his family who would be there for him. And he didn't have to deal with the press here - much.

"Do you even need vows in a civil union?" she asked and looked over his shoulder at the blank sheet in front of him.

He shook his head. "Optional. But we decided in favour and now... I'm stuck. What's this supposed to be about anyway?"

"It's about whatever you want it to be. Like what he means to you. What happened to bring you where you are now, the way you had to walk. Why you fell in love."

They had grown up together, had been children, adolescents and adults together in the same homes, surrounded by the same people but with their very own circles of friend. And yet, despite having looked at him and Wills as a couple for three years, she still didn't seem to know. "There was no reason why I fell in love with him. I didn't need one."

A slow smile spread on her face and she leaned in to kiss him on the cheek. "Well, why don't you say that then?"

She pecked him on the cheek once more before leaving the room.

~*~

As royal weddings went, there might have been bigger ones but certainly not any with more potential for scandal that simply didn't happen.

After long discussions with everyone even remotely involved (security personnel being part of that) they had decided against a wedding in London, as it would be a purely civil ceremony anyway, and opted for Windsor instead. It would make things less accessible for the public, but this way it was easier to guarantee their safety and with a wedding of so much controversy potential at the very least... The public would simply have to deal.

They said their vows, were declared married and were ushered to the reception.

There was a moment of surprise when Wills literally swept him off his feet and carried him into the reception hall. Carl laughed as he wrapped his arms around his husband's - and it would take some time getting used to that term - neck so they both kept their balance. Wills was laughing, too when he sat him down and there was quite a little delay while they caught their breath.

Toasts followed the first official part of their appearance and never had a poem about loss been more celebratory than on this day; it was actually surprising, how apt it was and Carl had well understood the meaning Prince Philip had intended.

The wedding had gone smoothly and the only real scare was one he personally perceived as such. When he returned from the men's room and found his just-married husband in amiable talk with Andrea Casiraghi, attending in stead of his uncle (no one had expected Prince Albert II to attend a wedding between two men, with all the rumours that had been flying in previous years and everyone had been very understanding when he RSVP'ed he'd send a substitute - and Carl had half hoped, half dreaded for him to send Andrea).

After getting over his first shock - and relieving a waiter of a fresh champagne flute - he slowly wandered over to where the two men were still...chatting. Their stances were relaxed, Wills was smiling honestly while Andrea's smile was slightly lopsided; his eyes had found Carl already.

"Hi Carl," Andrea said when he reached the two men and they clinked glasses. "Congratulations. I'm happy for the two of you."

It was strange hearing Andrea speak English with him, whenever they had met before they had talked German with each other. But this was something Carl simply would have to get used to as long as he didn't get Wills to learn German as well, after he was now mostly fluent in Swedish.

"Thank you," Carl knew he had to be grinning like an idiot, but this was Andrea; they had known one another since the man's presence had been required at official functions. There was hardly anything that could embarrass either of them to the other - not least due to the infamous F1 weekend. Still, Carl couldn't help his hand touching his husband's back for a second in gentle and brief reassurance. Wills pecked him on the cheek with a quick laugh. "And thank you for your present, it was extremely...useful."

"Why, I thought so." He actually winked. With anyone else, Carl would have been worried. With Andrea Casiraghi these things lay a little different for some reason. "I was just talking to William about how Guillaume doesn't seem to be around. If you tell me how you managed that I'll send you another one of those bottles."

Guillaume had been a concern they had mostly discussed in private and the issue had been resolved by the invitation being sent explicitly to Grand Duke Henri and his wife, rather than to the Royal Family of Luxembourg. They had still not been entirely certain the wording was quite clear enough - without being insulting towards anyone - but at least now they didn't have to worry about him.

Wills shrugged, a frown on his face. "Everyone seems to have had a run in with the man. Everyone but me."

"Lucky you," Carl and Andrea said in one voice, then looked at each other and grimaced.

"You, too?" Carl asked and his first response was Andrea rolling his eyes.

"Just...don't remind me. What did you think why I took to hanging out with you during the F1 weekends?" His face looked almost as if he were in pain.

"Well now, and I thought it was just so you could ogle my body," Carl answered in mock hurt.

Andrea wrinkled his nose. "You don't have enough hip for my tastes, sorry." He smirked. "Now if we were talking about your enigmatic character..."

Wills cleared his throat and when they turned towards him he looked as if he could hardly hold back laughter. "You know, if anyone was to overhear you, we'd all be in over our heads with the press tomorrow."

Andrea raised his eyebrows and looked around, as if only just realizing they were not quite alone in the hall. "Be that as it may... You should come visit at some point. But don't do it on the F1 weekend," he said to Wills. "Carl won't be pried away from the track then. Once, a couple of years ago, we almost got soaking wet, if I hadn't had the presence of mind to bring an umbrella... And all because his highness needed to watch training laps. So if you were there around then, the two of us would have to amuse ourselves somehow all by our lonesome." That last was said with waggling eyebrows.

Carl almost choked on his champagne, throwing a derisive look at Andrea, who just grinned.

"Sorry. I should be looking for a new glass of that champagne myself. I saw Theodora talking to Henri earlier, maybe his grand dukeness is finished advertising his sons to her and she can get to the more important matters. Being unimportant to any thrones gets you the best gossip, I swear."

With a last nod and a warm smile he turned around and walked away from them.

"Nice guy," Wills stated while he was still patting Carl's back soothingly, until he had caught his breath again.

"Told you. I still can't believe you didn't know him." Madde was frowning at them from where she was sitting at the family table, a glass of wine half to her mouth, and he frowned back in confusion. Had he missed something, should they have had those dances already?

He felt Wills shrug at his side. "I've met his uncle and I think his mother a few times, when she was still married to the Prince of Hanover. You know, token family relations."

That had been covered in the peerage and ancestry lessons he'd been subjected to together with Alex. Compared to the the United Kingdom, the last thousand years of Swedish monarchy were a piece of cake.

"The Grimaldis are...special," Wills concluded after a moment, while they made their way towards their families.

"Very diplomatic," Carl remarked sardonically and got a grin for his pains. "Franco-Italian pirates and Andrea and his siblings got even more Italian blood from their father. I'm not sure 'special' covers that any longer." He frowned. "Just don't get any wild ideas. The press would have us for breakfast. And his girlfriend would have the details first." The remaining question was what was the more scary of the prospects.

"Talks of lube and offers of sexual entertainment when my husband is busy watching shiny cars race by, mutual reminiscences of harassment by Luxembourgian contenders with my husband's helper through his sexual identity crisis, the man I chose to spend my life with almost choking on champagne... Not quite how I imagined our wedding day to be," Wills mused with a smile and linked their fingers.

"No?" Carl looked at him from the side. "How did you imagine our wedding day to be?"

"I thought there'd be some dancing, some moderate drinking and plenty of sex later on."

"And there you were saying things about someone overhearing..."

Wills leered at him. "We're married now, whatever sex we're having is totally legitimate and even expected of us."

"As opposed to all the sex we have been having in the almost five years before now?"

They had arrived at their table and William was already offering his hand to Vicky, who took it and let herself be pulled up. On their way to the dance floor Wills stopped at his side once more and kissed him affectionately on the cheek. "Right," he whispered.

Carl looked after his husband and smiled to himself while he offered his own hand to Alex.

Five years ago, who would have thought a day like this would ever come? Two princes, one of them heir to the British crown, joined in marriage.

Yet here they were. And they would not yield.

-Fin-

 

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Anglo-Swedish Relations](https://archiveofourown.org/works/84131) by [carmenta](https://archiveofourown.org/users/carmenta/pseuds/carmenta)




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